Unwanted and Unseen
by iram0123
Summary: One silly incident at school turns one life around. That life is mine. The day I embarrassed one of the mysterious pale kids of this small town is the day that will certainly come and haunt me for eternity.
1. Prologue: Chronic of red

_I always tried to turn every disaster into an opportunity._

_-By John D. Rockefeller._

* * *

_Prologue: _

_Chronic of red_

* * *

It was around the end of the semester. The time that every student in high school longs for. And I was one of those people, finishing off one art class in a heave of sweaty panic. Lots of things had been happening to me at the time and I can say my schedule was packed with assignments and tests. But this project was supposed to be the last one and then I could sigh in relief.

However, I had until the end of the day to finish a painting I was doing and return it to the teacher.

The brush was literally wrapped in dry paint when I returned from the other side of the school with my notebook that I had forgotten in my locker. _Crap, crap, crap, _was all I thought and shouted quietly in my mind while my teeth gritted together. The brush nearly slipped out of my slippery grip more than once.

The whole classroom was empty, so it was just me and my art equipment. But every once in a while, I would glance out to the yard longingly to see the street few students walking along it and definitely to their homes… While I continued being stuck in a paint smelling classroom. I had run about two hours before because of a notebook and my notes in it of the whole art project – I spent nearly a week to finish them – had been left in my locker which was on the other side of the school. So, not only did I smell like paint, but sweat was literally dripping from my armpits due to exercise and stress I was under.

Why did I ever think that art would be easy? I deserved to be smacked across the face for that.

Anyway, that is not even the worst part of everything that happened during that dreadful day. When I least expected the things to get worse, they did.

So, a few moments before my demise, I had managed to add one final brush to the painting and let it clatter down to the palate. My shoulders rose high to the level of my ears before they slumped down.

"I am done!" Taking off the apron covered in different shades I let it slump down to the chair and looked at my work once – a smile forced its way to my face.

However, just like those who climb the mountains to the highest peak, they are all in danger of falling from those very heights. And because I got cocky and thought that it would not happen to me everything fell apart. My first mistake.

It wasn't probably the smartest thing to do, but I was so ecstatic and eager to get out of the building with my head held high, that I started cleaning hastily. I didn't bother to check if I really did put the thin brushes into right place or where the thicker ones ended up. I grabbed half-empty bucket of paint and briskly walked to the door. The storage for paints was in another art room.

That was another mistake I made that day.

The very second the handle was twisted by me and the entire wooden door opened, I nearly collided with someone. The shock had been great, because it was unexpected.

The next thing I knew, the bucket that I had been swinging carelessly back and forth slipped out of my hands and straight towards whoever was unfortunate enough to be standing there. It hit the solid chest and clattered loudly to the floor. My mind actually grew so silent that the metal meeting the ground sounded like glass shattering. And it was also thanks to this that I didn't feel the dread immediately. But, when it came, it hit me so hard that the air literally left from my lungs. I couldn't breathe.

Red, the only color I was seeing was stark and painfully bright against the plain white school walls. However, that was not the only white it had stained and that was the very reason all of the oxygen felt like it was disappearing from my lungs. The person who had surprised me, had that paint dripping down the front of their own white shirt, covering almost every piece of the fabric.

I watched everything happen in slow motion. The color faded from my own features and the world grew unclear before my very eyes.

"Jasper!" A high-pitched, delicate and angel-like voice yelled and broke the atmosphere. Heels were clicking daintily and approached me and the person I had just dumped the paint on.

The color literally left from my face for the second time and my lower lip started trembling. _What. Have. I. Done!?_

"I-I am so, _so_ sorry!" Is the only thing that left from my mouth. But instead of going forward, I took a step back. I have never been good with confrontations or looking people in the eye in awkward situations and that moment had been like living my worst nightmare.

However, I did everything against those instincts that told me to forget apologies and run away as fast as I could. Instead, I had tried to handle the situation like a grown-up. Another mistake, because when I lifted my head up in the most apologetic and ashamed expression I could muster back then, I literally froze and stopped breathing again. My heart almost stopped beating, as well, and cold sweat dribbled down my spine like a gathering of snakes.

Dark – like solid black, steel, pitch black paint, any of those colors or even darker – were staring down at me with murderous intent. At least, that is what I gathered in a second from the clenching jaw and the pale features. For a moment, the person appeared unworldly and even more terrifying than they already appeared. The light of the outside and the hallway illuminated the sharp face and only made those stark black eyes and dark rings under them even more obvious. The later should have brought imperfection, but it did none of that. And despite how those eyes clearly were the most horrifying thing I had ever witnessed, half of me had been in awe of the beauty of the boy before me. The golden locks framing his face had been almost like looking to the eyes of the angel.

Until that moment, I thought I had already seen every possible death stare and glare out there. And I was snapped back to reality of the situation, when I took a note of how the paint made him look like a victim of a serial killer, or perhaps the killer himself. A cold chill traveled down my spine and my voice was lost. He appeared to be almost shaking, lower lip twitching into a grimace or even deadlier look.

_Just kill me! _I remember screaming mentally. I had wished that the earth would have swallowed me up, but the ground beneath me was steady and covered in slick paint.

"Jasper," the voice that had screamed earlier was suddenly closer and softer, calming and smooth. It came in the form of a tiny, dark-haired girl. Her startling wide hazel eyes – _no, are those gold? – _turned to look at me.

I blinked back like a braindead moron. I had been too ready to bawl my eyes out, but then even more terrifying sound filled the hallway.

"Oh. My. Gosh," the cursed space was large and empty enough for the echo caused by those gasped words to fill it.

The three pairs of eyes turned sharply to see a girl with her school bag loosely hanging from her right shoulder. Her eyes were wide and looked between me and the two other people in complete shock that it made her eyes plate-like. And there was a bright pink phone in her right hand which made my stomach flip over once more.

I send her a pleading look, begging her silently through my gaze to put that piece of technology down immediately. My week, my day had already been bad enough and I didn't want everyone to know how much I had screwed up that time. I liked to be unnoticeable, but I knew that things would change if that screen would flash. So, I weakly shook my head, hands growing sweaty and the world started spinning. _Please, don't do it. For the love of everything holy, don't!_

There was a rather loud 'click' and with that, my life was officially over.


	2. Chapter 1: The day of unlucky

_Welcome to High School._

_Where you will be judged on your appearance._

_Where you won't be able to talk to any of your friends._

_Where you should be worrying about schoolwork, but aren't._

_-By Anonymous._

* * *

_Chapter 1: _

_The day of unlucky_

* * *

The world just hates me, I know it.

Not in a manner that it constantly bombs down on me in the most infuriating rate, but rather at the most inconvenient times. The school is just a ten minute away and I am wearing a simple hoodie with a T-shirt underneath, jeans and sneakers that are all in all not suitable for wet weather. I get it that Forks is a place where it nearly constantly rains, but not every single day should be like that.

The first cold drop lands on top of my head and I bite down on my lower lip. _No, nope! Don't you dare sky! _Another comes down on the tip of my nose and more and more soon join it. It starts downright pouring and I start running, like my life depends on it. My first class is supposed to be mathematics and I couldn't definitely stand calculating while being soaked to the bone.

By the time I am running up the stairs of the school with few others who also forgot to bring along more waterproof equipment, the liquid in my shoes and socks could literally form a pool. My dirty blond bangs are sticking to my face as I push them off and straighten up, only to see a familiar blond girl walking towards me with her whole dry glory.

_Please, let her walk away._ Biting down on my tongue, I am about to walk past her when green eyes turn to me while cringing on the sides.

"Forgot your umbrella?" She asks sweetly, her painted lips stretched into a what could be a sympathetic smile.

I know better though and don't say anything. Instead, I do my best to ignore the streams of irritation waffling out of me from the sound of that nasal voice and continue forward with brisk steps. If I give her any attention, she will no doubt start bragging of it on her profile page.

"You look like a drowned rat, _paint girl_," Lauren says quite loudly, and I hold back a flinch.

People snicker – everyone in the hallway heard what she said – and I just have to lower my face and pull the wet hood over my head like it could make me invisible to the looks I receive from anyone in the hallway. Of course, I regret this as soon as drops from the heavy and wet fabric on top of my skull start to drip down my head and back. _Whatever did I ever do to her? _That popular girl seems to just enjoy making others miserable, but I feel like I am the sore thumb out of every other person whenever she confronts me. It is annoying, and I can't do anything to make her stop.

But, I am also partially blamed that this is all happening to me. This teasing and bullying. All because of what happened before the summer break. Despite the fact that I am already embarrassed enough by Lauren's comment, my face heats up more from the horrendous memory. I had splattered red paint all over one of the Cullen kids – the forbidden group of "untouchables". Cold sweat comes down my body when recalling the scene. Maybe teachers are capable of pushing away the blundering of students, but they have no idea how the minds of high school students work. I have been branded as a 'paint girl' and there is no way to wipe it off.

Just my luck.

By the time I have made it to the classroom, the seats are occupied. Nobody pays any attention as I sneak to my space in the back, luckily. Not everyone is like that snobby Lauren, thankfully.

The math teacher soon waltzes in with his usual bored expression. I don't blame him. We all look half-dead zombies first thing in the morning.

"Alright, put your books away. We will start with a quiz."

My face falls even more, and I want to just cover my entire face with my wet sleeves. Today is just not my morning.

I haven't even done the homework we were given last time.

* * *

When the lunch approaches, my mood has lightened up a bit. My clothes aren't as soaked, and I can stroll across the place with the almost-dry-hoodie tied around my waist. After the math – that horrible quiz nearly _killed_ me – the next ones went well, and I was able to pass my time idly. On the plus side, I haven't even seen Lauren or anyone else from the popular group who could have had a chance to harass me further.

However, now that I have to eat to survive the rest of the day, I am feeling that familiar clenching in my gut. This is one of the times that nearly everyone from the school gathers into the cafeteria. And every time I fear the moment someone will either try tripping me or throw a banana peel at me. The latter has happened once, but luckily not since. The fears are probably mostly in my head, though.

_Whatever _I nearly throw my hands up in the air. I have survived this far. This will be just another day. I will go in there, grab some food and then march back to get my books from my locker. Easy.

I turn around a corner and freeze. The whole place is jam-packed and nearly every table is full. Which means, I would either have to sit into a full table or eat outside where it is still raining heavily. This will be an easy but at the same time a difficult choice. I choose to continue walking in, suddenly wishing that I still had the hood over my head. I can see the table occupied by the popular kids and pray that they are too occupied. Lauren's back is to me, so that is one danger out of the way for now.

I accidentally almost dropped a fork when I stepped into the line. My hands are getting sweaty and I dare to slightly glance up. There is some unknown girl in front of me and waiting for her turn to fill her plate. It is enough for me to know that she is occupied and then glance quickly behind me. Another girl is there, looking off to the sides. That is also enough for me. It tells that I am indistinguishable. _Deep breaths, everything is going fine. Just… breathe. _

The weight of the food isn't that great, but I fear it might fall from my hands. That would certainly create a wonderful scene.

In the middle of dreading it, I spot a free table on the side and mentally cheer. It is just in a perfect angle away from the popular kids' table and it can be all mine. Not wanting to seem too eager, I walk as calmly as possible towards the white square shaped table.

When I sit down next to the window, the tension leaves my shoulders and I let out a quiet sigh. _The food looks good for once._ I take a bite of the chicken, the dry meat drying my tongue. _Nah. Same as always. _

As I am chewing, the chair on the other side of my small table is dragged back and a pale girl sits down. Her small features intensify how large her golden eyes seem.

"Hi!"

Somehow, my teeth bite down on both the chicken and my tongue. I jump – from two different reasons – and quickly cover my mouth. My eyes are not naturally large, but they sure are now as I try not to choke down on the chicken.

The smile that shows rows and rows of pure white teeth dims and thin eyebrows knit together in concern. "Oh my. Are you alright?"

"Y-yes," I cough out and quickly wash the food down with water. My heart hammers against my ribcage, as I seem to be unable to tear my eyes off the pixie-like girl whose smile returns from my brightness of her teeth is startling, but so is her sudden appearance and it makes my stomach flip. This is the last person that I have ever wanted to make a contact with, especially in a cafeteria where everyone else can see us. I don't dare to check how many have already noticed, though.

Alice Cullen, the smallest and the most peculiar of the Cullens. She is now so close that I can see every individual piece of her spiky hair sticking to every direction. Still, that doesn't change the fact that she is as beautiful as any other Cullen. That white skin is stark against the dark colors of her locks and outfit. Her eyes don't even blink, as she seems to almost peer into my soul.

I feel self-conscious, horrified and start to wish that the ceiling would come crashing down. The silence between us stretches, but I am starting to notice how some tables near sound to be calming down like they are starting to watch and notice this peculiar scene. I am not exactly blaming them. Alice just… came to sit down with me without hesitation.

"C-can I help you or something?" I ask, lamely, biting down on my tongue soon after.

"Oh, yes!" She reaches out with her hand, fingers perfectly manicured. "I am Alice Cullen. Remember me from the last semester?"

_Don't remind me! _I wish to disappear and can't bring myself to reach out to her outstretched hand. Instead, I start wondering, if she is being serious, right now. Does she think that I could ever forget what happened? And why is she bringing this up right here and now? My face is starting to burn from memories rushing back and cold sweat trails down my spine.

My lower lip has dropped, though, obviously showing my disbelief. I soon shut my mouth with a 'click' from my upper and lower teeth colliding.

"R-right," I stammer out, finally.

This, however, seems to be enough for Alice, as she pulls her hand back without any indication of being offended. "You are Beatrix Stone, right? You share a class with my brother, Edward Cullen."

I can't almost breathe and steal a glance around us, which is the wrong choice.

People are staring, whispering and pointing towards me and the short haired girl like in a zoo. I am starting to tremble and inhale shakily, appetite totally lost. I turn back to Alice, but even looking at her is making the entire cafeteria seem smaller.

"Yes?" I breathe out confusedly, clearly remembering the other Cullen in my biology class. The one who doesn't talk unless asked something by the teacher.

Her grin seems to widen. "I saw you just sitting here alone. Thought you might need some company. Can I call you Trixie?"

I stare at her, her words coming in from one ear and out of another. "What?"

She chuckles a little. "I asked if I could call you Trixie?"

…_What? _My mind is blank, and my expression must be showing it. However, I soon frown tentatively and start playing with the tied-up sleeve of the hoodie around my waist. The fabric feels somewhat comforting but does not wash away the anxiety or suffocation building up inside my chest.

"W-why?" I ask, tongue stumbling and tangling. I raise my hands, though, ready to grab the tray, rise up and walk away.

"I thought it might be cute."

I bite down on my lower lip and look at her again. The smile hasn't left from her face and it isn't unfriendly. Honestly, she seems so genuine, but my mouth is suddenly drier than that chicken I swallowed. The chattering in the room is louder and causing me a headache.

I shake my head. "Whatever," and stand up.

"So, that is a 'yes'?" Alice asks eagerly and also stands up.

The chattering doesn't cease, and my stomach keeps on flipping around the place. Without really knowing how to handle the frustration, I look at her with an emotion close to anger – irritation. _Are you dense? Can't you see that people are looking? _I nearly want to ask those things but can't. She is so much smaller than me in build and size. She has smiled at me, but I can't seem to muster any positive emotion from that. _Just why are you talking to me? Are you here to pay back for what I did to your brother? _

There are such large questions that I could ask now.

The latter makes my fingers dig into the tray and I walk briskly away, dumping the food into the nearest trash and then out of the cafeteria. All the while feeling gazes weighting heavily on my back I keep my gaze harshly on the ground and the exit out of this place. Although, there is a restricting thought playing in my head; no doubt Lauren and her leech squad will eventually bother me about this. The thought makes my insides freeze into ice.

By the time I am far away from any person and stand in the most deserted place in the school at this lunchtime, my heart hasn't stopped hammering and my hands are just as sweaty. It is like I have run a marathon. I lean against a cool wall and look up at the ceiling. _How many hours are there before my last class, again? _

* * *

I have never been so happy or grateful that I have almost always taken the seats at the back. Even now, I am in a corner, watching everyone else's backs. The last class is English, poetry to be specific. It has been nice so far. The teacher is nice, the class is mostly filled with decent people. Mostly.

The only thing that I am not that happy of is because one of the popular kids is sitting on the other backseat and is every now and then glancing at me. Jessica Stanley; not as bad as her friend Lauren, but pretty close. Somehow, I have got this feeling whenever I see her face that she thinks to be superior to others, well mostly. Assuming things is not a very good way to judge – I have never been really good at it – but just her normal expression, whenever she looks at someone who isn't popular, makes it seem obvious.

Biting down on my lower lip, I turn my head and lock eyes with her. She blinks and looks away almost immediately. I frown and also look away. If she wants to glare or make fun of it, she can go right ahead. This is the last class and I will be out of the building soon anyway. Ten minutes from now on, to be exact.

"Alright, hand over your drafts. It doesn't matter if they are finished or not," the teacher calls out and starts collecting the papers.

I lean back, pretty happy that I have managed to finish mine on time. Wiping away the pieces of rubber from the paper, I hold it out to Mrs. Brantley who takes it without a second glance. When she returns to the front of the class the students have started whispering to each other. They snicker and makes small gestures and I hear some asking others to hang out later.

"Settle down. The class isn't over, yet," Mrs. Brantley calls out and places the stack of papers down to her desk. "I will be checking your poems and return my opinion in the next lesson. However, I want all of you to think about the theme you choose for your actual poem by the end of this week. Remember, your final work has to be based on another poem's style. Start discussing it with your partner."

Funnily, I am sitting alone. So, while every other student is busy chattering their plans or just generally telling some rumor they heard, I look down at my notebook and open it. Truthfully, I have not really thought of what I am going to write about. _I will just figure it out at home._

Even before the bell rings, the students have begun to pack their stuff away and are obviously enthusiastic to get out. Although, I am not ashamed to admit that I am the same. A minute before that piercing sound rings, I have all my stuff inside my bag and am ready to stand up.

The ringing starts and chairs are drawn back. I stand up and take my bag, heading out of the class together with the other students.

"Miss Stone," the calling of my last name makes me freeze near the door. The others pass me by, shooting glances back at me. "Please, stay for a while. I have something I need to talk with you."

Puzzled, if not a little worried, I slowly turn around. Mrs. Brantley is sitting and looking through the small poems we returned. At least, she is holding one of them and squinting down at it through her thin framed glasses. _What did I do this time? _

Hesitantly, I walk over to her and stop just in front of her desk. "Yes, Mrs. Bratley?"

"Can you explain what this is?" She asks and looks at me while holding out a paper. I open my mouth to answer, but she beats me to it and starts reading the paper herself. "'I cut through the flesh and bone, as the soul of the body is gone. The blood and the gore, what a bore. She is truly rotten to the core. Is it such a surprise?'"

My face flushes for the thousand times the color of red and my body stiffens. Those who are still at the doorway chortle and laugh. When I glance towards them, I see Jessica among those few and quickly look away, ashamed to make a move. Sweat gathers to my palms.

Truthfully, when I wrote that, it didn't seem like such a bad idea. The day has been bad enough for me and I needed to take my frustration out on something. It is solely based on Lauren, but maybe I should have added a few others to the list. This is now so embarrassing, though. My fingers start playing with my sleeves and I look down at the ground. At first, I thought that Mrs. Brantley was a nice teacher, but my opinion on her has changed. The way she just read my poem out loud makes my skin crawl. _Why is she doing this to me? _

She doesn't even glance at the other students. "Now, I do not want to limit my student's creativity. But I must admit that your poem is somewhat… _frontward_."

Another row of chortles. I feel like the teacher is backing me into a corner and clench my hands.

"Miss Stone, in the future, you must remember what an appropriate way is to use poetry as the way to convey your emotions," she explains like from a textbook. She seems to be pretty proud of it, too. "That is why I want to see improvement in your next work and not this kind of gravity. Am I understood?"

My throat feels tight, I want to protest, but end up swallowing thickly. There is no use on wallowing up on this any longer, we already have an audience and I don't plan on making myself a further laughingstock like I already have.

I end up nodding stiffly. "Yes, Mrs. Brantley."

We leave it at that and I walk out of the class, finally. The weight of the world feels like it is crashing down on me when I accidentally look at the people who heard everything. They are still amused, and my face burns once again. I wish that they would just stop. They have already made my life miserable enough.

"That sure was dark, paint girl," Jessica snorts, causing others to join her.

_Again, that nickname. _Something hot bubbles in my gut, but it's outweighed by the heat on my face.

I fail to see what in her comment was funny. It was probably just to despise me further, but I try to ignore the annoyance bubbling in my gut. She hasn't insulted me in all this time and suddenly she has. And suddenly, even a teacher has gone against me. Could it all be because Alice spoke with me today? The thought makes me clench my hands and I quicken my pace. What does our talk have to do with anyone else but ourselves? If this bullying is the result of jealousy or some other nonsense, I might as well quit going to school with such immature people. Well, I am immature, too, but I wouldn't get riled up because of something like that. This place is small enough. People will get bored easily and gossip about useless subjects. And sometimes it is a curse.

Everybody knows almost everybody around here. Rumors spread quickly; the story of my blunder was a basic knowledge of school by the end of that day.

The stairs I take are filled with people who push and rush down, all heading towards the same direction. I feel further irritated when I can't move fast enough. The stench of perfume and sweat is giving me a headache. Because of a certain 'incident' at the cafeteria, I couldn't have a proper meal and now I am starving. My stomach churns from the image of food that appears in my head.

_I wonder if I have food left back at the house._

Someone bumps into me, but I don't pay attention to it. Leaving the school building is like playing American football without a protective helmet. And when I make it outside the ground is soaked with puddles and small streams pool down at the sides of the road. I am happy that at least the weather is now in my favor.

"Trixie!"

It would be quite amusing if I were to now fall down like in cartoons. But I don't. Instead, I am completely aware of who has called me, that they are approaching and that I need to get away. I start walking faster, hands holding tightly to my bag's straps and avoiding the puddles in my way.

_Just ignore her. She will go away as soon as you are out of the parking lot. _

"Trixie, wait up! Ugh! Jasper, come on!"

My heart hammers and a shudder makes goosebumps appear on my skin beneath the hoodie. A small voice in the back of my head is telling me to continue walking – to even run like my life depends on it. And yet, I glance over my shoulder to see two figures heading to my direction, easily keeping up with my pace, despite the fact that a small framed girl wrapped in a comfortable looking white jacket is dragging a taller male with her. He looks reluctant to follow but lets the girl pull him along nonetheless. And I recognize that blond hair anywhere. It has been my menace of a reminder of what transpired months ago.

I want to start running, but my eyes lock with Alice's and she grins and waves at me. I silently curse myself for giving her an opportunity to do so but decide to stop nevertheless. It would be stupid to stop here and now after making eye contact. Also, I admit feeling bad for leaving the smaller girl in the cafeteria so absurdly. I should have probably handled it better.

She stops together with the boy she is still holding onto and I purposely avoid looking at him. I give my full attention to Alice, despite wanting to just sink into a puddle. "Yes?"

"I finally caught up with you!" She grins and then pulls the boy closer. "I wanted to introduce the two of you so when I saw you earlier I decided to drag Jasper along. You remember him, right?"

If not for the said boy whom I publicly humiliated last semester standing so close, I would give his sister the 'look'. I have not eaten, but it is like bile could rise from my mouth at any given minute. I just _know _without looking that people have noticed our small group in the middle of a parking lot. _Calm, stay calm. Just figure out what she really wants and leave._

Instead of saying anything, I hum softly in agreement and look to the side. "Was there something else you-"

Alice cuts me off and looks at her adopted brother and boyfriend. "Jasper! You also remember Trixie, right?"

I could literally turn around now and leave, but my feet stay firmly on the ground. I want this to be over, I really do. But what if Alice doesn't get to say everything she wants now and tries to pester me tomorrow, as well? I wouldn't be able to handle that, and I bite down on my lower lip in silence. _Does she hold a grudge or something?_

After a somewhat long pause, a neutral: "Yes," comes out of the blond boy and I nearly jump out of my skin. I can't help but hear the strain and tightness in his tone and immediately shrink back slightly. I pray that my movement isn't visible to the two Cullens.

"How was your day?" Alice suddenly asks.

My tongue is tied up in knots for a second. "Um, good? How… was yours?"

"It was great! Our art class was great."

The muscles in my shoulders tighten and I stop breathing for a second. "Is that so?"

"Yes! My artwork got praised quite a bit. The new teacher is so nice," she says and then shifts her weight from one leg to another. It is nearly impossible not to have eye contact with her without turning my head away. She is so short, and my eyes naturally fall on hers.

"Right," I say lamely, softly and then look to the side. I should have taken my wristwatch this morning, so I could at least pretend to look at the time. _Will I seem rude and obvious, if I say I am in a hurry? _

"Alice," surprisingly, it is Jasper who speaks next, "we should be going. You promised to help with dinner tonight."

The golden-eyed girl merely smiles and looks at him. "Don't worry. I want to chat with Trixie for a while, so you can go with the others and I will take the other car.

_Rich people, _my mood turns sourer. I can't even begin the count of how many times I have felt jealous of the cars the Cullens have. I don't have a license, so I can't drive, but that doesn't mean that I won't be envious.

But that's not what's making me extremely uncomfortable, now. Knowing that Alice is willing to let her family leave because she wants to 'chat' with me raises a lot of alarm bells. The Cullens never make any contact with the other students. And if they do, it is very brief and very unnoticeable. They talk to teachers and such, but that is the furthest social contact that they make and those are the only contacts I have seen them make as long as I have been here. They are anti-social, like to keep to themselves no matter where they go and what they do and as far as anyone else can see, the couples in this adoptive structured family never leave each other's side. And yet, here is one Cullen breaking that. She has come to speak with me once without her family and now she has even dragged Jasper along. The one whose shirt I sabotaged the first time we met.

I feel like a cornered animal for the second time from a different reason. Information is being processed inside my brain rather quickly and I come up with a quick escape plan. I pray that this will go much more smoothly than my plan for the poem I wrote earlier.

"Sorry, Alice," I start, much more confidently than before gaining her attention. "I have to go home. I promised my dad to come straight after school and I think he is getting worried. It was… nice talking to you. Bye!"

I whirl around and start walking again. Thankfully, the pixie-like girl doesn't call after or seem to try and follow me, which is an extreme relief on my part. Even if they noticed the haste and enthusiasm in my tone just now, it doesn't pretty much matter. I am now free of the two of them and walk rapidly down the road. This was fairly easy escape if I could say so. But, I know that pretty much half of the school saw what happened and no doubt I will be pestered tomorrow again by the popular kids.

My life is bitter.

* * *

The door closes after me heavily, as I step into the warmth of the house. "I am home."

Of course, nobody is there to answer, and I feel a slight drop in my empty stomach. The lights are not on and I am left standing in the empty and dark hallway. For a moment, I imagine if there truly was someone in this building and they would soon come down from either upstairs or from some other room at this floor – I wish somebody would answer to my call.

But when the silence continues, and I continue standing still like an idiot, I let out a tired sigh and kick off my shoes. They fall somewhere, and I make my way to the kitchen. It is clean, spotless and mostly unusable. And when I walk to the fridge and open it, there is only a bottle of ketchup in it. The sight is depressing.

My stomach lets out a growl and I place a hand on top of it. I let out yet another heavy sigh. _Nothing, great. _I take out my phone and throw my bag on the table, looking through my contact information, fuming. _He better read this text before coming home. _I rarely text, so writing a simple message goes pretty slowly.

'_We need more food', _is what I finally send and then let the phone drop next to the bag.

I still need to eat, though, and check all the dry food in the cabins. As expected, I only find a can of pea soup and that is it. My shoulders drop in disappointment, but my hunger is greater and makes me grab it. This has basically been filling my food supply for the entire two weeks and a half.

After looking down at it for a few seconds, I take my phone out again and text: '_No more pea soup. Bring meat, bread, vegetables, fruits etc. I mean it. I don't want to see another metal can in the house.'_

I start cooking if you can call it that. Although, I can't stop my mouth watering from the smell of warm food. In the end, instant food is a decent choice. At least, it is something and I won't go hungry. Though, perhaps I should bring my own lunches from now on instead of relying on school's the entire time. Then, I could avoid the 'trouble'.

It has started raining again when I sit down with a plate and start eating. I watch through the window at the outside world, noting how little life it has. The house I live in stands further apart from others. There is a small forest blocking a view from the rest and behind this house is a larger forest where anyone could get lost. In my opinion, it is a perfect place for crime to take place. It may not be too far away from neighbors, but the small woods around it provide perfect curtains and coverups. A chilling fact and it sometimes has made me question the safety that I feel in here. Though, I doubt that almost anyone knows that there is a house here, one that is occupied.

Suddenly, the front door opens, and I nearly drop the spoon in my hands. The thoughts on a crime scene make me think the worst, but when I look towards the door leading out of the kitchen, I relax slightly. There, barely in the kitchen, stands a man in dark clothes. It would be a terrifying sight if I didn't know who it is.

"Welcome back… You are early," I say quietly.

He looks at me and then walks calmly to the table. A plastic bag is placed down next to my school bag and he speaks in what is a very soft voice: "Here is the food. Say if you need anything else and I can go buy it."

Slowly, I lower my spoon, forget my almost finished dinner and reach out for the bag. In it, there is pretty much everything I requested in my message. I nod, a bit happy for some strange reason. "Yeah, no need to worry. This is enough for a week."

When I look at him, he doesn't give any reaction before turning away. The dirty blond hair is barely peeking from underneath the dark hat that he pretty much wears all day. It's this very sight which makes my throat tighten for a mere second. And when he actually starts to walk away, I bite my lower lip. Seeing him planning on retreating into his own room just like that is…

"Are you hungry?" I ask, even though I know the answer he is going to be giving me.

Silas pauses at the door and turns slightly to look at me over his shoulder. "I ate at work before, so I am not."

"Oh," is the only thing I manage to say, hoping that my disappointment isn't visible. "Then, tomorrow, do you want breakf – "

"No, I am good," he says, cutting me off and then walks away.

I stare after him again, listening to the silent noises of the house. Once again, I am alone. And despite knowing that there is someone else here with me, the walls separating us, and the stretching silence is thick and almost unbearable. Somehow, when I stop breathing and concentrate, there is a faint sound of door opening and closing. He went into his room, probably to catch some sleep.

Another moment of silence passes through the house and it comes to the point that I could as well be a statue just standing in the middle of it. Finally, though, I sit back down and continue eating. _Why do I even try anymore? _The food is still warm, but I shiver and adjust the hoodie to stay warmer. There is no other sound echoing in the house anymore, other than my shuffling in the kitchen.

* * *

I stare and stare some more, but that does not make the image I am seeing any better nor does it disappear. Instead, it continues staying there and my lower jaw drops. A bad hobby, it appears on my face whether I want it to or not. And just like my baffled, bewildered, flabbergasted expression, the school news appears without my consent as well. Something snaps in me and my hands clench around the thin papers.

I am aware that the space I am currently in is a library and that I shouldn't shout, but that is exactly what I wish to do right now. There is a picture of me with Alice on the front page. It was obviously taken when she sat down in front of me yesterday at the lunch hour. My mouth in it is hanging stupidly open and my back is hunched over.

Now, today is sunny so obviously, she and her whole family are out hiking. But that is exactly why I thought that I could be momentarily safe. Apparently, the universe is against me because my sense of security is always shattered at the most unexpected times and when I least want them to mangle my life.

'_Alice Cullen, one member of the school's most mysterious and privileged siblings' group, unexpectedly sat down with another student, Beatrix Stone, at lunch hour. Reasons for this new and peculiar development from one of the Cullens is unknown, but this is not the first time Miss Stone has had an encounter with a sibling from this shadowy family. During the end of the last semester, she splashed red paint all over another Cullen, Jasper Hale, Alice Cullen's adoptive brother/boyfriend. The pixie girl was present at the time of the incident and was even mentioned in the news article.' _

Even if I haven't read half of the article, my blood is boiling towards anyone who took a picture and wrote this for the entire school to see. It happened in a cafeteria, for crying out loud. Over half of the school's students were present so why does it need to be printed permanently on paper? I get it that we don't have that many exciting things happening at school – there is pretty much nothing interesting in this newspaper, to begin with – but my story and encounters with Cullens can't be that entertaining… _Who am I kidding? Of course, it is. _I just wish that it wasn't me. I continue reading and my emotions boil the longer I do. Every sentence is like adding up the heat on a stove.

'_The encounter is shrouded in rumors. One of which says that Miss Stone will be adopted to the Cullen family. Another suggests that Alice Cullen has a secret of homosexuality that she has hidden from her family for years.'  
_

I bite down on my lower lip harshly, face heating up. _At least they admit them to be mere rumors. _

'_The cafeteria happenstance wasn't the last one. The next time Miss Stone made contact with Miss Cullen was later in the middle of the parking lot during the same day. With her, she had brought Jasper Hale, and the three had a brief conversation, until…'_

I have had enough. This newspaper has nothing else but rumors and gossips filling it anyway.

My hands twist and crush the page, then I throw the whole thing into nearby garbage. It hits the bottom, but I do not feel satisfaction. Instead, I wish to find whoever had written this story when they did and then call them all sorts of names that I can muster in my state.

I run my hands through my hair and then lean back against the chair. I try to calm down and count silently to ten. When that doesn't help I try to focus on reading my history book. Naturally, when I finish a chapter I don't even remember what the topic book closes, and I push it into my bag with frustration. Whatever handouts there are below the thick book, they are crushed by its weight.

Shaking my head in exasperation I stand up and walk to the bookshelf, determinate to get my mind cleared with literature… Not that I even know what I am looking for.

Suddenly, a book's cover fills my vision.

"Try Wilfred Owen," a voice like bells chimes next to me.

I stiffen and turn slightly, not surprised to meet golden-brown eyes. Still, I remain in the frozen state, glancing between Alice and the book she is holding as if she is some sort of alien. I have no idea what she is planning or thinking by suddenly appearing like this, but I do look down at the object she is holding a second longer. Alice goddamn Cullen is giving me book advice?

"…Thanks," is what I end up saying, lamely.

Pearl white teeth flash and the petite girl hands me the book. "No problem."

There are many questions flashing in my mind, but one stands out the most – what on earth is she doing in the public library? This isn't our school, this is our free time. In all the time I have been coming to this place, not once have any of the school's mysterious siblings come waltzing into this place, more or else into any public place in the entire town. I should know, I visit this library quite often. Also, what kind of person just appears holding out a book to someone like this? It's like something out of a drama show.

Feeling awkward, I flip some of the book's pages and to my surprise actually stop at some points. And as if it's meant to further surprise me, I actually like what I am reading. Slowly, I realize that I have been frowning and that the muscles on my face start relaxing the further I read. They are poems and I look through more than one.

However, I am snapped back, when I remember that Alice is still standing silently in front of me. She is still smiling and is looking at me with wide expecting eyes, waiting for a comment on the book choice. Clearing my throat awkwardly, I close the book and give her a short nod.

"This… seems like a good book," I say, but mentally kick myself for making it sound so weird. My throat tightens and I hold the hard-covered object closer. "Thanks, but… why?"

She lets out a short laugh and shakes her head with a bit of confusion. "Why not? You were having trouble picking a book, from what I could see. Plus, you like writing poems, right?"

The last statement sends me back a bit and I frown. "What?"

"Well, you have written few yourself on the school's newspaper a year or a half ago," the pixie-like girl explains and smiles. "I liked them."

Suddenly, I am experiencing a flashback, as heat spreads across my face. It's the same emotions from earlier this week – embarrassment with a hint of shame. My mouth opens and closes, and I have to lower my eyes to the ground. Alice chuckles lightly from my reaction, but she probably doesn't know how much worse that's making me feel. The information streams into my head and the cogs start finally moving. I do remember writing something for the school at one point, but only now do I recall that time and feel massive shame wash over me.

Those small poems weren't much, and they were also too cheesy for my taste, like something from a thirteen-year old's diary. But to think Alice Cullen has _read_ them and is now bringing it up… I can't process all of this and end up biting down on my tongue. I shift my weight on my legs, unsure how to react anymore to the shocks this girl keeps on firing at me.

In the end, I give her another nod and look to the side. "I see."

"You must like writing poems quite a lot," Alice says, and I glance up at her to see her still smiling at me.

I frown for the second time and turn around to walk back to the table. "No, not really."

"Oh?" The dark-haired girl sounds almost disappointed, but soon follows me and takes a seat next to mine. "How come? You should continue writing them in the newspaper."

Unintentionally, as I turn the pages on the book, there is a faint rip. The edge where the page is sewed into the book has now a small, barely damaging rip. I flush but continue turning pages, pretending to read some of the text while emotionally squirming. Just mentioning that pile of papers makes me remember the one piece I threw away just earlier.

The last thing I need is to write on that devils' paper where everyone can fish out my name. Even the thought staying anonymous sends my gut twitching. I look at Alice to meet her innocently twinkling eyes but am momentarily startled by her almost glowing skin tone. She is now in close proximity, but I can't spot a single flaw on her skin, just like back at school. And like back there, her clothes are once again neat and what I can only say as fashionable. Self-consciously – this girl makes me feel this way more than anyone should in one lifetime – I adjust my posture and wipe some lip balm I could have over the edge of my lips and try to ignore how my fingers brush close to my acne scars.

"Maybe," I say and then look back down at the book. If I pretend to be busy with something else, she might go away.

"Are you free this weekend?" She asks straight after.

My entire body nearly slumps in obvious exasperation and disappointment from truly thinking that she was done. This time, I need to think carefully about what I would be saying because I do not like the way the pale girl has made her question sound.

"No, unfortunately, I am not," I say, but feel dull guilt after. It's a lie what's coming through my teeth. Of course, I have nothing to do at weekends. I pretty much never have unless exams are coming up. Usually, I just sit on my chair and watch cartoons from my laptop.

However, my answer is not enough to sway Alice. She leans the weight of her head against her palm with a thoughtful expression. "Then, what about the next weekend?"

"…No, busy," I shake my head, sweating from nervousness.

I do not understand why she is so insistent on getting into my personal space or even talking to me. Rather, I am _praying_ that she didn't track me down here to merely strike a conversation like this. Despite knowing how rude or stupid this is, I pray that the short girl will get the hint already. Although, to this point she hasn't, even in school the Cullen girl had been completely obvious to my discomfort.

"Then, how about we hang out sometime after school?" She suggests easily with another happy smile.

_Calm. Stay calm. _

A quiet exhale leaves through my nose and I lean back against my chair, a bit lost what I should do. "Hang out? The two of us?"

"Yes. Who else?" Alice nods, a smile growing once again as I turn to look at her.

A lump forms in my throat from the memory in the school today. After the final bell had rung, this same girl had dragged one of her siblings along – that should be an immediate answer to her question. And it's also what I fret over the most.

Maybe Jasper is the reason why Alice is so insistent on getting closer to me after all? I was the one who embarrassed him, to begin with. This must be how she will coax me into trusting her and then get her revenge on me for it at the moment I least expect anything. My stomach drops from that idea, though, and I shift in my seat, completely forgetting the book full of poems and dropping my hands to my side. Even if that isn't really the case, this is still weird and peculiar behavior from one of the Cullens. Not to mention, I am starting to think again how the rest of the school would react. Judging by how everyone reacted after the literature class, that is.

Despite thinking these things, I still ask: "Where exactly would we be going?"

My question must be what Alice has been looking forward to because now her smile could split her entire face in half. "How about we go down to Port Angeles?"

"No," I immediately tense up and shake my head, thinking just how long it takes to get there by car. An hour-long drive and I can't even drive to begin with. "Sorry, but that's just too far away."

For the second time, there is a look of disappointment on the dark-haired girl's face, but then she brightens up again. "Then, how about I will come and hang around in your house? My house will have guests, so going there isn't really an option."

I pause for what feels like the hundredth time and turn around so that my knees are facing her. The look on her face is once again expecting and a bit hopeful and I have to inhale deeply to calm down. I have only talked to her a day, now, and she is already asking if she can come over? Why is she so desperate all of sudden? Rather, I do not want to share with this girl where I live. I can come up with couple images how that could go down at a later date.

Alice did suggest shopping at first – which is _not_ my forte or anything I would do regularly, if possible. So, switching to my place is quite an activity change. The worst part being that there would be nothing to do and the two of us would spend the entire time in an awkward atmosphere or silence. But… what if even after saying 'no' she will still insist on a meeting? I couldn't possibly come up excuses forever.

"I… I don't know. I will have to ask my dad," I finally blurt out. "But what could we possibly do at my place?"

Alice claps her hands, looking positively radiant. "We could…"

When she pauses, I give her a chance to think for a while. But when I hear nothing from her for more than what feels like ten seconds, I purse my lips and stare at her in uncomfortable silence. She is staring also, but not at me. Her eyes seem to gaze at nothing as her body leans slowly back against the chair. The golden-brown irises do not move, but twitch now and then, almost as if seeing that I don't. To confirm this, I turn to look where she is but manage to only see dusty shelves and the wall behind them.

"Alice?" I call out and turn to look at her, again. When she doesn't answer, I frown and raise my voice a bit. "Hello? Everything alright?"

It must have worked, because she slowly drags her eyes to me, mouth half-open. "Yes?"

"We could," I gesture with my hand for her to continue, "do what in my house?"

"Oh, yes!" She smiles again and scoots closer. "How about a movie night? Your pick and we will watch it."

A momentary emotion of annoyance washes over me, but I smother it, actually thinking about what we could watch for a moment. I open my mouth as soon as an idea pops into my head but close my lips almost a second after and look to the side. _What we could watch… a movie… _I purse my lips, crossing my arms in deep thoughts.

"I… I don't know. I don't have any at home," I say, feeling a bit silly for feeling slight shame from the confession. Of course, I am lying again.

"Well, then," Alice continues smiling and faces me with determination in her eyes, "I can bring something over. What kind do you like?"

I actually smile a bit from this. "As long as it isn't horror, I am fine with anything."

"Great! Then, when can I come over?" The dark-haired girl asks, cheeks pulling up with the lightly colored lips.

The uncomfortableness is back, and I avert my gaze from hers. Now, that we have come to this part in the conversation, I actually start experiencing uneasiness – since when was the last time, I invited anyone over to my place?

"As I said, I need to ask my dad permission first. I will tell you… maybe tomorrow or a day after?" I swallow thickly, getting more uncomfortable by just sitting there. "I am not sure if he is around during that time, but I will let you know as soon as I get the answer."

Alice raises both of her thumbs. "Awesome. I will see you tomorrow at school. Bye, now, Trixie!"

And just like that, she practically skips across the hall and behind the bookshelves – the energetic Cullen vanishes completely out of my sight almost in a second. I didn't take note of one thing before, but the end of her shirt is long and ruffled this time and it's the last thing I see before I am completely left alone between the books. I am dumbfounded and frozen on the chair I am sitting on, though, and I stare for a while at the spot where she had been on. It's now empty, but our conversation is replayed over and over again in my head like a recorder.

She had literally just left, after getting my answer... _Is this what she was after this whole time? _My theory of her actually tracking me down here grows more and more believable and I bite down on my lower lip, gut clenching. She is definitely a peculiar girl, but I am not sure whether that's a good or a bad thing. _Who am I kidding – just to what did I agree to!? _

Anxiety grows and spreads across my body which grows stiffer by the second. A momentary thought of lying makes me feel a bit of hope, but that isn't an option. Rather, it would only make me feel bothered and rob me of some little peace in life I have left. Forget about the fact that I would need to tidy up the place if my dad says 'yes'.

My biggest concern is what will become of me if the entire school finds out of this meeting. Thousands of scenarios of bullying from real-life events to TV shows flash in my mind and I let out a low groan.

I shake my head helplessly and start gathering my stuff, suddenly wishing to be back at home.

_Everything is going to be okay, _is what I think and pray.


	3. Chapter 2: A good or a bad day?

**rebelforcauses: Thank you for being the first person to comment on this story! I'll try my best to keep up your opinion on it the same.**

**liverno: Thanks. I was hoping nobody would at least call it boring, so your comment made my day. **

**LostInWonderlandd: Yeah, I also feel for my OC. Honestly, I wouldn't even want to show my face around people, if I did something similar to what she did to Jasper. Also, thanks for telling me that I haven't messed up with the characters. **

**Edges05: Well, I hope that this story stays interesting. Enjoy reading this new chapter. **

* * *

_I'm the luckiest_

_Unlucky person_

_-By Tig Notaro_

* * *

_Chapter 2:_

_Good or a bad day?_

* * *

I am trying my very best not to show the annoyance or discomfort I am feeling, right now. But the person sitting on the other side of a small round table is making it rather hard for me not to. Alex isn't even trying to hold in his snickers and shaking shoulder. The usual unhealthy paleness on his face is changing to a flushed color and so is mine, but not because I find anything amusing. In fact, I am irritated, tired, but otherwise filled with cheeseburger and fries.

"I am serious," I hiss, glancing around the people in the café. It's not exactly full, but I recognize more than few familiar faces that could overhear our conversation. "Quit laughing at me!"

He shakes his head, raising one arm, looking ready to topple over from his chair. "S-sorry, but… don't you think you're making this sound much worse than it actually is?"

The voice in the back of my throat gets stuck and I grab the lemonade I ordered, drinking it through a straw so that it makes a squeaky noise. It must be irritating enough, because the boy before me frowns and shakes his head. It's strange – he has been listening me ranting for a while now and only now looks like he's done with my explanations.

"No – w-well _maybe_, but I have a very good reason to be paranoid here."

Alex snorts, tousling his brownish hair and leaning back. Compared to the frown adoring my face, he's smiling. "I guess, but not to this extent. What do you think she's gonna do anyway? Murder you in your sleep or something?"

"…No," I trail off and look to the side again, awkwardly, "but I do think she's plotting revenge on me."

"For what?" The brunette asks, lifting his hands up in the air in exasperated manner, completely lost with the logic I am trying to feed him. "For all you know, she can truly be trying to get to know you. Shouldn't you just accept that and try and relax?"

I lean forward and direct him with a pointed look. "But _why _on earth would she want to get to know me? I mean… I am me and…"

Alex places his own drink down and gives me an easygoing smile, hands linked together in front of him in a business-like manner. "Obviously, you made a very lasting first impression on her brother."

I flush again and throw fries at him, they land skillfully on his plate. "Alex!"

He merely laughs for the second time and bends over, while I huff and cross my arms. This isn't an unusual occurrence and it's certain that every worker in this café is familiar with our loudness and antics. Nobody has yet to come and complain about how much we cause a commotion in here. Although, it still doesn't stop me from looking around at disapproving glances from grownups who have wisely chosen to sit more than a few seats away from our table. I always feel a bit ashamed, when I see this, but also think that everyone should know better than to come into this place at every weekend. The thought of that makes me smile a bit.

Of course, despite the fact that Alex does not go to the same school as I, he knows of the incident from the last semester. And not through newspaper of the school like everyone else, but because I even told him about it in vivid detail and we were both laughing in horror back then. Now, I am not laughing anymore.

Sighing and ignoring his snickering, I lean back and look out of the window. It's raining and I watch the drops _stain_ the window. A shudder goes down my spine, when I am once again reminded of the horrible event that has ruined the rest of my high school life. Even after the new year, people don't seem to stop reminding me of it. Although, a vicious cycle has started, now that Alice Cullen has joined the picture and made things worse. Even while sitting in this café – the place where I should be comfortable and relaxed – my shoulders keep on tensing from recalling that pale face.

"It isn't funny. My entire life is messed up," I sigh and bite down on my lower lip.

Alex actually pauses with his laughing. "I'm sorry, Trix, but… I think you are exasperating, a tiny bit. I mean, c'mon. I don't think that they would be the kind that would even bother with such things. There are already wild rumors about them without this paint scandal of yours, so what damage did they actually get from the incident?"

I shrug almost weakly. "Don't know."

"See?" He asks and taps his fingers against the wood of the table. "There shouldn't be anything strange, if someone wants to get to know you."

"Are you seriously asking what's so strange about this? Since, when – god damn _when_ – have any of the Cullens wanted to know anyone in this town? This can't be coincidence, Lex."

The brunette shrugs and adjusts the fries I had thrown at him earlier. "How can you know, if you don't even try? Who knows, you two might as well become best friends."

If I were holding my drink and taking a sip, it would surely go to the wrong throat and I would be choking on it. But since I am not and my mouth is empty, my lower lip merely drops, and my eyes widen to the point it feels just about painful. I stare at my friend for a while and he meets my baffled expression head on with a small smile visible on his lips. And after what feels like an eternity, I snort, shoulders twitching.

"Me and her? Best," I pause, when another laugh cuts through my sentence, "_friends_? Not a chance. Besides, you are the only best friend I need in this life."

Alex places his hand on his chest dramatically. "Oh, how touched I am – but seriously. Why not? I mean, I have met their dad, he's quite a good doctor and a nice person."

"Well, I don't know about their parents, but I know that their children are very isolated from the rest of the school," I sigh again and look at him in the eye. The image of the golden-brown is still so strong that for a moment I mistake his own chocolate brown ones into one of those. Luckily, it's merely the trick of the light and I relax slightly.

"Hmm," he hums thoughtfully and crosses his arms. "Maybe they have been waiting for someone to break the ice?"

"Seriously? According to what I have heard, the moment they moved from Alaska, the entire school tried to befriend them, only to be turned down cold. And now suddenly, one of those mysterious palefaces wants to come to my house and quote: 'hang out,' with me? I am not buying this," I shake my head and slap my hand on the table. "I wouldn't be surprised, if that Lauren is even plotting something against me, right now. Seriously! They all act like Cullens are freaks and avoid them, so why do they act like… ugh! Just when things were beginning to somewhat calm down, I become the headboard for throwing darts, _again_."

The depression and all the negative feelings I have been holding comes crashing down and I cover my face with both of my hands. Alice had made the first contact with me this Friday and this is Sunday and the entire time to this point I have been fretting over how to handle everything. Honestly, I love to keep things simple in my life – not too much worries, not too much disaster and not too much attention. It's much easier, when the entire school doesn't come up with rumors about you or some strange girl doesn't try and talk to you every time the two you are within fifty feet radius. Nor does anyone give you death stares which make you feel like a scum. From this description, I recall the constant stoic expression on one of the Hale twins' faces.

_Seriously, what's up with that entire family? _I shudder – maybe for the thousandth time today – and cradle my chilly hands, a sign of how nervous and on the edge I have been.

We are totally different. I see it, everyone else can see it, surely Alice can see it as well. I'm a plain girl who could care less about my appearance and who would rather mend together with a wall. And she… she is just the total _opposite_ of me. Being seen, whether she wants it or not. The same can be said about the rest of the siblings.

I have nothing against Alice or her family, but it's because she has drawn so much attention on me at school that I feel like slamming my head against the walls. It was bad enough that I was made fun of after accidentally ruining Jasper's clothes and it's still bad enough because some continue calling me 'the paint girl'. And the mockery has started again like some sort of fair to the rest of the students. The only one who isn't enjoying it is me.

"I just… don't want things to get more… complicated," is what finally comes out of my mouth and I lower my hands from my face.

Alex pats my arm in a friendly manner and smiles at my downturned expression. "I'm sure that things will go well for you. I mean, people talk, but they also get bored from saying the same things over and over every week."

I raise my eyes to look up at him with a blank expression. "You forget that this is a small town and people _will_ talk as long as possible, until something new happens. How likely the latter is around Forks? Zero."

"Actually," the boy raises his fingers pointedly, "it's from the opposite end of the number line."

"What?" I frown, totally confused from his choice of words. From the look I give, I only receive a mysterious smile from him.

"A little bird told me," he leans towards me and lowers his voice, "that a new person is moving here to attend Fork's High."

"So? That doesn't sound too much – oh, wait! Yes, it does," I say with a slight nod. The school I attend to is small, everyone knows basically everybody walking down the corridor. Even if I don't know the names, the faces are familiar and the groups they belong to. A new face would certainly stir up some curious glances for a while.

And come to think of it, I remember overhearing few of my peers talking of something similar a while back. They seemed pretty excited, but I half-listened and put the fleeting conversation somewhere within my head, forgotten.

Alex chuckles. "See? And I also heard that this person is Chief Swan's daughter."

I smile a bit from this bonus information and quirk an eyebrow. Of course, the face of that man – who also stops by into this café every now and then – flashes in my head. If it is his own child who will attend the school, then it's certain that more than a bit interest will arise, or rumors. This may be wrong, but I pray they will be worse than mine.

"Well, let's hope that she's interesting enough to draw the attention to somewhere else…" I trail off, eyes trailing up to the clock above on the wall. "Um, Lex?"

"Yeah?"

"I think your mom will start to worry, if you don't call and ask her to come and pick you up."

"What?" He turns around and looks where I have directed my gaze. His expression grows slack in a second. "Oh, shit."

I gasp. "Alex Grey, language!"

Brown eyes give me a look, which in turn makes me break into a fit of giggles. The gloom has started to lift itself off from my shoulders a bit by bit, it seems. I really should have met up with Alex immediately after all that hassle in the school – spending time with a friend is really what can make some things better.

He takes out his phone and immediately an expression of disbelief fills his features. "She has already texted and called me."

"Uh-oh. How many?" My voice is serious, but it soon breaks again, when I laugh at his serious face. At least now he knows how I have felt during most of our conversation. "But seriously, you should call her immediately. Don't forget about your surgery."

"Please, don't start sounding like her. That was months ago," Alex says with a begging undertone and I make a zip motion with my fingers. He sighs. "Thanks."

Despite wearing a teasing smile, I look down at the object next to his feet. The greyish and white oxygen tank looks like one of those fire extinguishers that I see at school every day and I know that this thing should weigh a lot less… but it doesn't seem like it. Rather, if I had the two before me, I would wager that the one my friend needs to drag around daily is the heaviest.

The see-trough pipes trail up from the tank and up towards his face and there they enter into Alex's nose. He even ate with them on and that's exactly where I look next – at his plate. Unlike my full course meal of hamburgers and fries with meat and grease, his is half-filled with greens. Healthy, yes, but it's quite obvious how much more he would prefer what I have got. He hasn't even finished everything, like I have, but it's no wonder he's full already.

_He's struggling. _My hands tighten into fists. What am I complaining about?Sometimes, I wonder how it would feel like having tubes in your nose and carrying such an obvious thing with you all over the place. People would stare or make silent comments, true, but Alex is taking it all better than how I would. He doesn't appear to be faced by his circumstances at all and here I am ranting about my silly worries. They are all too insignificant compared to his. _I should get myself together. _

I don't realize that I was taking in the appearance of the object attached to him so strongly, that I didn't even notice how he was already dressed up in his jacket and hat.

"Earth to Beatrix," he calls out and snaps me out of the stupor. "Let's go. Mom said she will be here, soon."

I blink up at him, lost for a moment, but then nod. "Right. I will take care of the payment, then."

* * *

_I am sitting in the middle of the couch, knees drawn together and back as straight as an arrow. This isn't how I sit, when comfortable – the position is clear sign how stiff and uncomfortable the situation is. _

_For some reason, the living room appears too large, too open and completely opposite how it normally appears. The fireplace which is usually void of flames is literally flickering like one bright lamp and many colorful straws decorate its stone sides. They pool down to the wooden floor, which shouldn't be so brown and shiny as it's now. In fact, I somehow dare to lean forward and see my reflection on its surface. The couch feels amiss, as well. The moment I do try and move, it feels as if it's making me sink further into its softness and pillows. _

_The room is too bright, too. And that's how my eyes naturally rise up to see sun-like chandelier hanging from the ceiling – my neck is kept in craned position due to my puzzlement. This place really isn't or doesn't for some reason look anything like the living room I know. _

_Suddenly, the spot next to me sinks and the side of my arm meets with another. A smile makes it way to my face. _

"_You have a very lovely home," Alice comments and smiles brightly while looking around in what appears to be awe. _

_I tilt my head, still smiling. "Thank you! I am so glad you could come today."_

"_Why, I must thank you for allowing me to step into your lovely domain," the short girl gushes with what appears to be a faint blush against her pale complexion._

_This is a strange scene – me sitting with a Cullen in the middle what is supposed to be the living room in my house. And that's not the only thing anyone would find more than peculiar. Both of us are dressed-up in what appears to be frilly skirts. _

_This is nowhere near something I would put on. The clothes I wear are either dark or plain. The skirt is shockingly white and has layers of lace and ribbons of light pink color all over it. I lift my hand for a moment to inspect a white glove covering it from the tips of my fingers to my elbow. A single, pearly wristband hangs onto it loosely. Alice's outfit is nearly perfect replica of mine, but without any ribbons or color to decorate it. A lone hat with roses decorates her head and hides the spiky dark strands of her hair almost completely. _

_We both suddenly stand up and start skipping through a door and to the outside. _

_And just like the real Alice, the pixie-like girl skips lightly – like flying – ahead of me, the strands of white long sleeves fluttering in the air. Just like a porcelain doll, but one that can't be shattered no matter how high up she flies. And that's exactly what scares me, because I am left further and further behind. _

_I try skipping and end up feeling the ground firmly at the bottoms of my both feet. I am not weightless, and this makes me feel more desperate to catch up to her. _

"_Wait up!" I yell after her, but soon find myself standing in the middle of a parking lot. _

_Another wave of puzzlement washes over me, but it disappears in a second. This is not my house anymore, but I am in the school's grounds. However, unlike what it usually looks like – much like what you could say about the living room – the cars are all dark black and lined up neatly no matter where you look. There is no sign of small groups of teenagers or small puddles formed from the usual rain. _

_So clean and so __**unnatural**__. _

_I look around and realize that I have completely lost sight of the girl I was chasing. She is nowhere to be seen and soon the sea of students is surrounding me from all directions. _

"_Look! She has been hanging out with a Cullen!" Someone shouts from the crowd and I stiffen up. _

_**No, no, no, this can't be happening to me, now. **__I start shaking my head and backing away, but soon realize that there is nowhere for me to go. _

_The people seem to be moving closer, too. I start to experience fear. They are all looking at me, but it's hard for me to focus on their faces, because every feature is blurred. However, I do distinguish the scorning face of Laurent and couple other popular kids. _

_My breath picks up and I start panicking, nearly tripping on the strands of the ribbons hanging from my dress. They are starting to wrap around my legs, swaying my body dangerously close to the concrete. _

"_Alice?" I call out, worried and scared for my life. "H-hey! Stay away!"_

_One starts pulling me by the hair, the others take hold of my limbs and the hem of the dress. They pull, push and sway, making me stumble every second. I no longer am seeing the parking lot or the cars – the students have started forming walls with their bodies, growing and closing in wherever I look. _

_And it's exactly before I am swallow by the mass and crushed by it at the same time, that I see a face that is just as haunting and beautiful, as the day I dropped red paint on its holder. Jasper is looking at me and my entire body freezes despite the tugging it's going through. It doesn't matter that everyone is trying to drag me down, though, because I would gladly choose to disappear from the surface of the earth right now. _

_Those solid dark eyes are harsh, nothing like Alice's who had the glow of gold in hers. The black ones are the same ones that glared at me heatedly with poison and are even now making every warm blood in my veins turn into ice. _

_And it's the moment he is so close that I can feel the breath on my face that red comes splattering down from the sky, staining my white clothes and muffling my screams of – _

* * *

My eyes open immediately to see the darkness of the room.

I don't wake up from the nightmare in cold sweat – a surprising fact – and not screaming my head off either. In fact, I stay in place calmly, feeling the soft mattress under my back and inhaling the smell of my room's stuffy air after the night. The heating must be malfunctioning, though, because the air is clearly a bit chilly and goosebumps spread all over my arms.

Slowly, if not a bit warily, I wrap the covers tighter around myself and turn to my side. The phone has been charged throughout the whole time I have been sleeping and when I look at what time it's from the screen the clock is showing that it's barely six – another surprising fact. I can't remember the last time I woke up this early without an alarm and feel immediately discouraged to get up.

Slumping back down and letting out a sigh, I look with my adjusting eyes through the shroud of the lightless room towards the window to see barely visible shine coming under the curtains. It's definitely going to be another cloudy day and the fact doesn't make me feel any better. This nightmare has proven me something, though. I am not looking forward on confronting the shortest Cullen today.

I sigh heavily for the second time, I drag my hands across my face. Today would be the last day of peace for me, is what I think and dread, coldness pooling into the bottom of my stomach.

_What a nightmare… _Both my dream and the real-life.

Frustrated, I climb up from the bed and shiver immediately from feeling the chilly air's full impact. It isn't spring, yet, but it feels as if I am standing in the middle of winter land with only my pajamas on and bare feet.

Hissing, I quickly make my way out of my room and towards the bathroom. There is no change in temperature, though, because no matter where I walk – the hallway, past the other rooms and kitchen – every place does not have a single corner for warm air. _W-what's up with this? Has the heating been off the whole night? _

In disbelief and even more depressed by this morning, I turn on the warm water and start my morning routine with a frown permanently formed on my face, which reminds me of a ghost. I have a look of a deadpan on and for some reason my face also appears swollen. Depression doubles and I can't stop looking at my gloomy self from the reflection for what feels like minutes.

And it isn't until I have washed my face, that I inhale deeply and purse my lips in silent determination. "I can do this… everything is going to be fine, today."

It's pretty obvious how nervous I am, by just acknowledging the fact that I am talking to myself. My stomach keeps on flipping, as well, and I end up splashing cold water on my face for so long that the tip of my nose ends up feeling numb. However, the good side is that my face is not too pale anymore and healthy color has risen up to my cheeks.

Suddenly there is a knock on the closed and locked bathroom door, and I jump, heart nearly leaping out of my ribcage.

"Beatrix," a familiar voice calls out, slightly muffled, "everything alright?"

For a moment, my mind turns blank and I stare at the wooden door in daze. I never expected that the second person living in this household would also be awake. It makes me feel a bit better, though, and mentally cheer that I am not the only one with sleeping problems.

I make my way to the door and open it, coming face-to-face with already dressed up man. And he's not wearing just any kind of clothes, but the kind which make him appear, as if he's going somewhere. He even has that hat of his on his head and squashing his short spiky hair. I look up at him, only to see his side profile when he's already turning away. This action makes me freeze on the line between the bathroom and the hallway.

"You're up early," he comments and walks leisurely, if not a bit stiffly towards the kitchen – I follow him.

"Well, couldn't exactly sleep anymore," I say offhandedly and start opening cupboards and taking out my cereal. However, I hesitate and turn to look at the man's back as he sits down to the couch, away from me. "…And what about you? Are you going somewhere?"

"…Yeah."

I am not surprised, but a familiar sensation of disappointment makes me nearly pour all of the cereal in the box into my bowl. Honestly, I was kind of wishing that he might take a day-off or even a week-long vacation would have been ideal – he would never do that, though.

"Um, dad?" I call out tentatively, deciding to finally take a chance and ask. When I see a slight twitch of his head, a sign to say that he is listening, I open my mouth. "Can someone come over to our house, maybe around this week?"

He's silent for a while, but then asks without turning around: "Who?"

My throat tightens as the pale face of a short girl with dark hair flashes in my head. I end up crossing my arms and leaning against the counter in what I hope natural manner. "Someone I know from school. We'll just watch a movie and… that's it."

"How long are they staying here?" He asks, but still doesn't stand up or turn his face towards me.

I shake my head, as if he could see it. "I don't know. Depends how long the movie will last, I guess?"

"…Alright, then," he says and finally stands up. It's his way of declaring that the conversation is over with this – he has given a permission.

However, before he can even walk past me, the kitchen and towards the door to the outside, I push myself off the counter and take a step forward. "When will you come back?"

"Probably after a few days," he says simply and disappears behind the corner without making a noise.

I frown and forgot about my food on the table. I head to the front door to see my father pulling on his shoes and reaching for the housekeys. "So, you will be out of town again?" He gives a single nod and reaches out for the knob of the door. But then I make him pause again by taking a steps forward and opening my mouth. "Can you look at the house's heater, before you go? Every room is freezing and the last time I checked things worked just fine yesterday."

Again, there is a pause and I bite down on my lower lip. _Hasn't he noticed? _It's quite unlikely, when you look at all the layers he's wearing. Although, the temperature inside can be a reason for that as well. Surely, he can't be thinking of leaving me into this freezing house for over days? The thought makes my gut drop.

However, the only word that comes out of his mouth is: "Yes," and then the door opens and closes a second later.

The moment the door had been open, though, I felt a chill going down my spine. The house has turned silent, once again, and now I am certainly the only one awake within it. The glass window on the door rattles from the small force that was used to get it close and I see my own frozen and blurry reflection on it. But it's exactly because of that that I look like a shaking trunk. And despite the door being firmly closed, it does not lessen the chill in the air.

_You've got to be kidding me. _

I frown again and turn my back to the door but end up slumping down on my chair and staring at my cereal blankly. Once again, that man walks away almost without my notice and will be gone for a while. And when he comes back, there is a half chance that I will not see it immediately. It's always his work dragging him from one place to another, so he could creep in in the middle of the night. Honestly, I am more worried about, if he even remembers to fix the heating like I just asked him to. There is no reason for me to worry about him, though. This may sound perplexing or horrible for any outsider, but to me this interaction is really normal. _He will always come back anyway. _

I take the first bite and look out of the half-open window. The light is still faint, but I see the slightly overgrown lawn of the yard just fine from where I am sitting. I have definitely been spot on, when I thought it is going to be another cloudy day. For what feels like the thousandth time this week, I feel depressed just thinking about the damp and cold weather waiting for me outside. Soon, I will have walk to school in that weather.

Despite living in Forks for a long time, I still have contradictory relationship with its weather conditions. Especially, when my mood is just as gloomy and aggravated.

* * *

I bite down on my lower lip in nervousness, as I am making my way towards the cafeteria. The hallway isn't filled with people rushing towards it, so I am guessing that most of the school is there by now, which does not encourage my feet to move faster. Instead, I falter the closer I get and bite down on my lower lip. _I should have taken lunch from the house._

Like I predict, the place is packet with people and I quickly make my way to the line, barely managing not collide or tackle anyone on the ground. However, it's obvious how on the edge I am being from the fact that I keep on glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. The anxiety jolting me tense nearly makes me stall on the spot and cause a large gap in the middle of the line – I sweat and start grabbing the cheapest and quickest food to eat.

However, it's because of my glancing that I have managed to locate every possible threat in this space, so to speak. The Cullens have not yet arrived – I would _definitely_ see them, if that was the case – so there is a chance of slipping away from here before that happens. But unfortunately, this doesn't mean that every person I would wish to avoid isn't present. I have already seen the popular group and my gut drops from the thought of even passing them anywhere remotely near.

_Calm, calm, _is the mantra I repeat inside my head and balance everything on my tray carefully. The beating of my heart is so strong that I can feel it in my throat and against the ribcage. And when I get to the furthest possible table between my exit and a corner, I sit down with my hands lowering the food shakily. _So far so good._

I sigh quietly in relief and start eating in what I hope seems like natural pace. If things continue on this smoothly, I just might survive this lunchbreak…

A movement on the side catches my attention. Of course, this isn't anyone I should fear or have even had a conversation with – a random student merely passing by my table. I am momentarily relieved because of this, but then I catch a sight what's much further away. At first, I think it's a trick of the light, or at least hope it's.

There is no mistaking that way of light walking with grace of a ballerina. The person's back is turned and they briefly brush the spiky dark hair. That's enough of confirmation for me to stiffen once again.

And it's exactly a few seconds after spotting her that Alice turns her head slightly and our gazes lock. A smile spreads on her colored lips, showing off her perfect teeth, but it's when she waves at me that I duck my head and pretend to be too occupied with eating.

_Oh. My. God. _I close my eyes momentarily, trying to ignore the edging feeling of stares from the people. I can't exactly be sure whether I am being looked at weirdly or if anyone even paid much attention to what one of the Cullens just did, but I sure feel like it. Flush spreads across my face and the rest of my body is covered by cold sweat.

My pathetic show of ignorance, however, does not help and soon I hear two distinguishable heels clicking towards my table.

"Hello, Trixie," she says and easily sits down next to me.

I shift uncomfortably, nearly choking on a piece of bread. Last time she had sat with me, it was on the other side of the table, not like this. I had rather hoped that she would take the same seat, but it seems that's not the case. Sweat gathers in my armpits, heart beating uncomfortably inside my chest.

"Hi, Alice," I reply steadily, but under the table one my hands is clenching into a fist.

The pale girl doesn't hesitate to open her mouth a second later. "How did it go with your dad?"

I think back to this morning and bite down on my lower lip. I also become very aware of Alice is smiling from the corner of my eye like an excited child and leans slightly forward. This only cause my mind to grow blank and not even think about slithering my way out of this.

I shrug and finally gather courage to look at her. "Well, he said yes."

"That's great!" She beams.

Suddenly, my passiveness towards my parent fades and actually after a long while I am feeling betrayal. He could have been a bit strict today and rejected the idea of me bringing anyone into our house. Even though it would be better to have Alice there than in any public place, but I also don't want her to find out where I live. Scenarios how that could go wrong fills my head and I start weeping mentally.

I half-wish that the petite girl can see my expression twisting between helplessness and anxiety, but I guess not because her smile is still as radiant as ever.

"So," she starts and links her hands together on the table, "could I possibly come to your place today?"

"Today?" I ask with surprisingly calm tone. I think she's joking, for a moment, but her nod only confirms my fears. "Um…"

"Oh, did you have other plans?" Alice tilts her head in question, but it's clear how disappointed she is.

This scene is familiar to me and I recall our other conversations from last week. She is once again making me feel guilty and uncomfortable and I silently bite down on my tongue. I have an urge to merely shake my head and drop this entire conversation. _This is ridiculous – I am acting like a child. _

"No, you can come today," I finally breathe out and go back to eating my food. It tastes plain and I curse myself for the second time for not bringing my own lunch.

"Are you sure?" She asks, instead of perking up or smiling even more. And when I look at her, I am met with a frown. "I mean… are you alright?"

Her question makes me blink once and feel perplexed. Now, she has certainly dropped a bomb on me. Of course, it has come to my mind that she might not understand what trouble she has caused me to go through, or rather she and her brother whom I stained with paint and ended up in the school's newspaper with. Alex's words come into my mind from thinking of this and our conversation on the last weekend. Guilt and his voice gnaws on my nerves and I once again bite down on my lower lip, which is surely worn out by my constant biting.

"Yeah," I nod and open a juice box, "just didn't sleep too well."

* * *

By the time I am sitting in biology class, my entire body is slumped, and I am rubbing my face. The students just keep on coming in and everyone is obvious to my exhaustion, though. The next thing I try doing is read something from the book on today's lesson but find myself closing the thing after only five seconds.

_This is stupid. _

I can barely remember what me and Alice had been talking throughout the lunch. I do remember the moment I finished the food and left, though. It had been like I was given a chance to breathe fresh air after hours and luckily Alice hadn't even started eating hers, so she didn't manage to follow me out. I at least hope she hadn't even been thinking about it – I needed and even now need my own space.

A student sits next to me and I shift, nudging my stuff from the other side of the table closer to my corner.

"Hey, look! Isn't that the new girl?" They whisper to the person sitting in a seat in front of me, but I hear it just fine from where I am sitting.

Curiously, I lift my eyes up to see an unfamiliar face in front of the teacher's desk. She truly stands out, though, so it's easy to spot her to begin with. Either it's the pale face or the uncomfortable stance she has, but it's clear this is the daughter of chief Swan that I was told of. Her hair is dark and stark against her skin, but it's not as white or flawless like one of Cullen's. Instead, it looks what I consider to be "normal" pale tone on a person. _Where did she move from again? _

The teacher – Mr. Banner – points somewhere and the girl gives a nod. Slowly, but surely, she makes her way towards whatever seat she has been give. But it's only a few feet before she makes it that the Swan girl stops. And it's exactly a second later that I look who sits next to her that I understand her hesitance.

I frown and look immediately away, resting my head on my palm. _Oh, poor girl. _I glance carefully back, while trying to appear disinterested. The one she will be sitting next to is Edward Cullen. The thought makes me almost cringe, because the memory of the other sibling pops into my head, once again. _No, nope. This is none of my business. _

"Don't you think that Cullen looks a bit tense?" My seat partner asks from the same person sitting in front of us.

"You think so?"

"Dude, can't you see how he's glowering at the new girl?"

Against my better judgement to keep my head focused on my own problems and worries, I look back over at the Swan girl and Cullen. And to my great surprise, what I have heard isn't incorrect – Edward appears uncomfortable, or rather, on the edge as he watched the girl sit down next to him. It can be the trick of the class' poor light, but it appears as if he is slightly inching himself away together with his seat and closer to the side.

From where I am sitting, his action appears rude to me and I frown in confusion. The daughter of the chief of police clearly turns to look at him with a twist of her head, but soon looks back down at her desk. But even when she obviously is trying not to pay any attention to him, Edward keeps on staring – more like glaring – at her. My frown continues deepening. _Wow. Who crawled up his backside and died?_

His head twitches sharply along with his eyes and pass over the row I am sitting in. Or rather, it feels like he was glaring at me for a moment there and a shudder goes down my spine – I look away again.

"Alright, let's settle down and everyone take your seats," Mr. Banner says as the last student closes the door into the class after themselves.

I also try to get comfortable in my seat, if that's possible, but find my gaze wondering back to the middle row where the school's new kid and its pale faced outcast are sitting. Indeed, the latter is to my surprise continuing his glaring. The Swan girl on the other hand gives off an impression that she's trying to focus on the lesson at hand, but it only makes me wonder, if she's obvious to the look she is being given. I mean, I pay pretty much zero attention to the people I go school with, but even I can see that the impression Edward is giving off should be clear distaste to anyone witnessing it. _Ignoring him, then? Good choice. _

The lesson goes on, but my head is not really being filled with working as a group with my supposed partner who's busier talking to his friend at front seat. However, when's doing that and my hands are on the microscope, I can't stop staring towards the Cullen and his new seatmate – I find myself comparing him to Alice.

Sure, they are adopted, but there are similarities, between all of the Cullen siblings, no matter, if there's blood relations or not. They are all unnaturally pale, but also beautiful and Edward is no exception. And this is where the comparison starts working in my head. While Alice is more like an unworldly ballerina with her grace and deer-like jumping across the halls, her adopted brother is more like a sculpture out of some sort of museum from Europe who merely broods all day, like now.

Again, the bronze-haired boy's head and gaze twitch so that it appears that he's directing his glare towards the people at the back. Or more specifically, my row of seats and my corner. I shift my eyes away, immediately, for the second time and purse my lips with sweat trailing down my back.

It almost seems like he felt my stare.

"Have you figured what it's?" My partner asks and finally stops whispering to the other student.

I almost don't hear his question, though, and actually pause for what feels like a minute. "Um, maybe? I think this is a bacteria cell and this its flagellum, first of all."

"Ok. Cool," he mumbles and writes it down without even checking it himself.

Feeling a bit miffed, I look back down at the task and try to focus. _Maybe it isn't flagellum, but pilus? _I mentally start cursing myself for being a lazy student. But then my mind jumps back to throwing insults at my father for having such a loose hold on the household that he lets his daughter bring strangers in.

_Seriously, _I almost sigh out loud in frustration and pick up another sample. For some reason, my father really can pick up the worst timing to get out of town and leave his daughter to handle social crisis alone. _I sure hope Alice doesn't mind eating Cheetos later at my place._

There is a sound of chair screeching against the floor and almost everyone's heads snap up. I also end up looking and am once again surprised to see that Edward is the one who caused the sudden pause in the class's atmosphere.

His shoulders are squared, but not moving, almost as if he has stopped breathing. The girl next to him looks startled and she's staring at him with mouth half-open in shock. Honestly, she isn't the only one and my jaw clicks shut as soon as I realize that I am wearing a very similar expression. As for what kind of face the pale boy is making, for once his expression is hidden.

"Mr. Cullen, is there something wrong?" Mr. Banner asks carefully, also appearing to be startled by this kind of uncharacteristic behavior.

Instead of getting a proper answer or an apology, the bronze-haired boy grabs his stuff and walks towards the door without a word. And before anyone can blink the door is closed firmly after him, leaving the rest of the class into a silence.

Of course, this lasts only a second or two, before everyone starts talking.

"Dude, what the fuck was that all about?" The boy next to me asks his friends and I silently asks something along the same lines from myself.

The new girl stays in her seat, unmoving and unresponsive. I would too in her place. The half of the entire lesson hasn't even been gone through and the guy merely waltzed out of it like he's got all the permissions in the world to do so.

It is only after Mr. Banner collects himself from the lack of respect towards his authority – and instructs us to continue – do the rest of us focus on the lesson, again. Although, my mind isn't probably the only one which keeps on wondering what in the world did we all just witness.

* * *

The last thing I expect after the crazy event in the biology class is to bump into yet another Cullen on the way outside. Honestly, it could be coincidence or a curse. After all, there is no way that all of sudden I am seeing their family's little drama episodes just because I end up in always seeing them at the worst possible time. And frankly I would rather not continue doing so.

However, as soon as I am heading out of my last class, totally minding my own business and wondering how on earth would I meet up with Alice without gathering the attention of the entire school, another person rounds up a corner before me. All I see is a flash of brilliant blond hair, before a hard – literally like a _rock_ hard – shoulder slams into mine and nearly knocks me down against the lockers. I blink in total surprise, gasp in pain and look at the person who has stopped to glare down at me.

_W-what the heck? _The expression I wear is definitely speaking volumes on how dumbfounded anyone could be in a situation like this one.

Rosie Cullen's eyes are like two dark holes on her porcelain white face and the thunderous expression on her face sends chills down my spine. The moment she sees the slight flinch from my part, the corners of her lips tug down into a frown. My own half-open mouth closes tightly shut.

"S-sorry?" I squeak out, not really comprehending what's going on or why I even said such a thing. If anyone should be feeling sorry, it would be this blond girl and not me.

Instead of showing any remorse from the pathetic sound, Rosie merely gives an expression close to a sneer and storms down the hallway. The people easily sense the approaching storm and quickly make her way, some unlucky ones nearly stumbling and falling. This is once again, very unusual behavior from someone that is in the Cullen family. And that's exactly why both of my eyebrows rise up till my hairline.

Now, I have once again nothing against this peculiar – an understatement – family, but slowly what just happened starts making my cheeks flush. There had been a sensation of aching on my shoulder from our collision, but only now do I start rubbing it tenderly. _What was her problem? That freaking hurt! _

Even more frustrated, I make my way where I was originally going to. Any longer in this stuffy building and I might as well pull my hair from its roots. However, the closer I get to the door the more confused I get, and the irritation almost disappears completely. There is no telling what might be going with the Cullen's to make them act like this and it must be pretty bad. Still, what has even made Rosie become physical? Whether this just now was on purpose or not, it doesn't change the fact that she didn't even apologize or show it on her face. In fact, she had looked at me like I was some kind of bug or something in her way. Also, why am I seeing so many of Alice's family members glaring at people so often now?

"_Trixie_!"

Maybe because I am on the edge with the Cullen's and their unpredictable behavior lately or the fact that I just got stared down by one _or_ the because I generally find talking to Alice as a bad omen, but I nearly jump out of my skin.

"Hi, Alice," is what I force out of my mouth and nearly wince from the sight of her pearly white smile. Seriously, the girl is making so unconscious of my own mouth by doing that.

She skips right next to me, so close in fact that we barely have a feet between us. "Ready to go?"

"Sure, yeah," I say back lamely and start walking, very aware how people have started to stare and how close the petite pixie-girl is walking next to me. "I am warning you, though. My house is not exactly close."

"Don't worry a thing. I have got a pretty great stamina, despite wearing heels."

"…great," is the next thing I can only say, but mentally I am screaming my head off. This was the last resort I had in mind to keep her away, but I guess I will have to along with all of this after all.

The very second, we step outside and feel the chilly wind, my mood lowers, and I inhale deeply through my nose. This will certainly not be my day. And when I look at the dark-haired Alice next to me, I immediately take a note of how light her entire attire appears to be.

The purplish coat flutters in the wind lightly as the skirt beneath it appears to be even more ruffled. The only thing covering the entire length of her legs are only a pair of long socks and boots. It's really no surprise that she has chosen to wear such an outfit, no matter how gloomy and windy the weather appears to be. But it does raise questions of how she can walk so freely without obviously shivering and turning even paler than she already is.

_Such a fashionista, _I think, but do not dare to ask or point it out to her. The last thing I want to happen now, is to get into a conversation about clothes. But there would be nothing else to talk of with her during this walk to my house anyway. And frankly I do not know what common subject we could talk about besides schoolwork. The more I think of this, the more nervous and uncomfortable I become. The stares people keep on giving us do not also help and I lower my gaze to the ground, occasionally glancing up to see where the road for my escape is.

"I hope I am not intruding, though," Alice suddenly says.

I look at her in confusion, but slowly realize what she means and feel my tongue getting tied up. "What? N-no! Of course not. My dad isn't really around, so it's fine."

She actually appears surprised and adjusts a fancy handbag on her shoulder. "Does he work a lot?"

_Crap. I shouldn't have told her that. _I hadn't really intended to come into a conversation about my parent, but it seems like I let this information slip. The bottom of my stomach clenches in discomfort, but I still somehow manage to look at her in the eye.

"Well… yeah," I say, but do not add any other unnecessary information.

Alice hums and then smiles a bit. "My dad is also quite busy. He's a doctor and all, but what about yours?"

Once again, I do not feel comfortable and look forward. "He works for a travel agency."

It feels kind of weird to be talking about him, right now. I have never had had to explain or tell anyone of my parent like this before. Alex already has known of how my old man can be for as long as I have known him and he me. The same can be somewhat said about his mother, too, but that's where I have put a stop sign. Not that there have been too many people that I could talk with, but… I just am not used to this kind of thing. Talking of such personal things with someone who is almost a stranger.

"Alice," a voice suddenly calls from behind us, quite sharply and that's half of the reason why I freeze completely on my tracks.

"Jasper," the shorter girl says easily and turns around. "Do you want something? I'm kind of in a hurry."

Slowly, I too turn around, but refuse to make eye contact. I should let these two talk and watch silently how things will play out.

Luckily, the blond boy doesn't seem to pay any attention to my awkward self and continues speaking to his adopted sibling. "How are you planning on getting back? The others took their car and I have to get back using yours."

"Well, how about you come and pick me up later?" She asks and sways the handbag innocently in her hands. "It's fine Jasper. I'll call, when I am ready to go."

"Edward isn't feeling well," he says tightly. "Shouldn't you go and check on him at least?"

Immediately, today's biology lesson flashes in my head and how stiff the bronze haired boy had appeared to be. _He's not feeling well? _The next thing I know, a shiver goes down my spine from also recalling that icy glare he had on his face. _Is that all what it __**really**__ was? _

Alice pauses for a moment, but then shrugs. "I know he's alright. I mean, it isn't like this hasn't happened before. Besides, dad is looking after him."

"It's worse _this_ time, Alice," Jasper takes a step forward, tone a bit more strained.

I take a moment to glance up out of curiosity from hearing his words but regret it almost immediately. He's looking at Alice – thank goodness for that – but his face is stern and tight. For a moment, it's the perfect copy of Rosalie's. Not because of the facial structure, those definitely differ between the two of them, but because of the paleness and the bottomless dark eyes.

Next, Alice's side profile fills my eyes and I see that compared to him, she has calmer exterior. Without saying anything, she reaches out and touches his shoulder. "It's fine, Jasper. He'll be okay and I will come back home safe and sound later. So, don't worry."

It could be just my imagination, but it appears as if for a moment Jasper's shoulder drops. His expression remains stern, but the twisted sneer on it has somewhat melted, as he looks down at the small dark-haired girl. The change is expected, though. Whenever these two have been together in cafeteria, Jasper has appeared uncomfortable, but while alone or detached from Alice, he only appears to be even more than that. Whatever it is that has driven him to the edge, the golden-haired boy seems to forget all of that from her single touch.

_Wow… _Truthfully, I have never seen two people this comfortable with each other. And that's why I can feel how my heart skips a beat, but also how my face flushes from seeing such a scene. No doubt we have attracted more attention by stopping and sure enough, from the corner of my eyes I can see how people have stopped whatever they are doing and stare again.

Suddenly, a foreign hand touches my hand and pulls me along. The back of my throat closes and doesn't relax, when I see that it's Alice. She looks over her shoulders and gives Jasper a final wave.

"Bye, now!"

For a moment, I am half-tempted to look over my shoulder as well and stare at the enigma-of-a-Cullen to come and save me from his sibling. But refrain from doing that and continue being dragged forward by Alice.

_Her hand… _

The grip isn't harsh or bruising. In fact, it pulls me along in gentle manner, like I am made out of glass. But I do notice one thing after a while, even through my coat.

I can feel no warmth from it.


	4. Chapter 3: The boiling point

**RenInWonderland: It's wonderful to know that I am not going straight to OOC-land. And thank you for having compassion towards Trixie. **

**Edges05: Aw! You're so sweet! Great to know that you find my story interesting and feel sympathy for my OC. :)**

**ArjunaRose: Don't worry about it. I will continue writing this story until the end. I've already made plans and would very much like to finish them. And yeah, it moves slowly, but that's only a good thing for me. I don't really want my chapters to go by too fast. **

* * *

_Don't ask me why._

_I do not know,_

_I have no answer to this insane behavior._

_-By __Marina Abramovic_

* * *

_Chapter 3:_

_The boiling point _

* * *

Agitatedly, the weather only gets gloomier the longer the walk drags on. The clouds have gathered thickly into the sky into one big mass of greyish clump like to scream for us to hurry up before everything would be soaked. That's how I see it. Even nature must be hearing my silent pleas to get on with this strange stroll and awkward silence. The latter is becoming quite annoying, though, and increasingly awkward to deal with.

But to my surprise, Alice manages to make this walk seem effortless. We have already crossed a small muddy road that I use every day to get to school and this one petite girl had skipped over it with her delicate small heels like a fairy. Compared to her, I had almost slipped, gotten the sides and the bottoms of my shoes dirty and silently lowered my head in self-consciousness. Not only is she moving with such grace even in this forest environment the clothes make the pixie-girl appear so out of place, but in a good way and that's what further lowers my mood. While my clothes consist mostly of thick fabrics that are baggy, hers are light and fluttery. Yet, she doesn't even appear slightly chilled by the low temperature.

Finally, watching her perfectionist self becomes too much and I ask: "Aren't you cold?"

"Hm?" She looks at me, once more showing how stark her hair is against the pale complex. A smile appears quickly on her face. "No, not at all. I come from Alaska and there you develop a great resistance for cold."

I hum in acknowledgment but then bite silently down on my tongue. The last conversation we had felt like ages ago and the silence of the street and the forests around us is becoming a nuisance again. There are few houses around, so why can't those living in them make some noise to break the silence for me? Heck, even the dog I am used to hearing barking has turned into a mute.

"Have you lived anywhere else, besides Alaska?" The question rolls out of my mouth, it's the first thing that popped into my head.

Alice's smile brightens, whether it's because she likes the topic or the fact that I am talking to her. "Oh, yes! Lot's of places. My family and I move around a lot, travel on vacations a lot, but we mostly stayed in Alaska because some of our family is there, as well. I've been to, for example, Italy, Brazil, Norway…" her eyes flash with mischievousness, "North Pole. But of course, we only stayed day or two in that place. Rosalie wasn't as fond of polar bears as Emmet was."

The pit I call my mouth actually dries from hearing her talk so nonchalantly about all of this like it's a mere hobby. Almost all of those countries she speaks of are on the other side of the world, thousands and thousands of miles away. Pictures of beaches and artic scenery that could only be seen by someone like me from a magazine appear in my mind. Unlike her family, I have barely traveled. The number of flights I have taken would be nonexistent next to hers. I am shocked, but also slightly not – the cars, the clothes, and the general appearance have long since screamed rich people. Of course, they can afford such trips and moves and so on.

Slight flush covers my face, I can feel it. I'm embarrassed from not even saying a thing. _Dear God, please don't let her ask…_

"What about you?" She chirps up in genuine curiosity, which is far too innocent.

"…I have only stepped into an airplane once," I answer honestly, looking straight into her eyes with a tight smile. I shrug, trying to appear casual. "Nothing major."

"Where did you travel?" Alice asks, again, and unknowingly creates a slight tension on my shoulder.

I look back towards the road, eyes trailing up to the mountains of thick forests trailing up and down on the landscape. "To here, actually. I'm originally from Tennessee and moved here a few years ago."

From the side, Alice visibly perks up from this new information. "Really? That's one place I have never been to before. I imagine it was a shock to move from such a warm place to here."

From that statement, I naturally think back a few years. _A shock… too mild word. _I nearly snort but swallow it down. I can still remember how I was watching the heat scorching land through the airport's large windows, remember how I was frowning almost the entire way until my face started hurting and the sickening sensation at the bottom of my gut from being raised high into the air for the first time. Those are only a few but are still very clearly memories branded into my head. Especially, when it was my first time in an airplane and because I was going into it alone.

And then, of course, my summer filled, humid and hot days were replaced by cold, wet and gloomy in more ways than one. My mood went down, decayed to the point where I thought that I had gotten a depression from such a large-scale change. However, in time, I actually became used to this scenery. And I bet that if I hadn't been so down back then, I would have even liked Forks from the first sight.

"It was," I admit after a bit of silence. "But I rather like it here. In Tennessee, I also lived in a rather small town, so this is not so different… expect nobody here preaches most of the time."

Alice actually chuckles from the last comment, humored. "Are you religious?"

A shrug is my answer, but then I open my mouth again. Maybe it's because I hate the silence that could follow, but I am more than a bit relieved to be able to talk with her like this. "No, not really. I quit that thing a while back. What about you?"

"I am an atheist," she says and skips a bit, steps feather-like. Strangely, though, there's a change in her tone. "My family also doesn't really believe in gods, but… I guess there could be something out there watching us."

This time, I almost snort for the second time. For over half of my life, I have been preached to, spoke to by priest in the Sunday church and almost every person claimed the same thing. I just can't believe Alice said such a cliché line and a smile forces its way to my face when I look at her again. However, my expression falls a bit and a hint of shame pierces my consciousness.

She has a small smile on her face. It's a sincere one and the same expression reaches her eyes. There doesn't seem to be a hint of joking in that expression, like all those other people back in my old home. This girl may not be someone who wears a cross over her heart, but she isn't trying to be funny either and I have to bite down on her tongue real hard not to let out anything that might be upsetting. _Don't go and be an idiot. Behave. _

"Well, I guess yes?" I say slowly and feel a bit of relief when her smile widens.

Again, those golden eyes twinkle. "That sounds like a _very_ convincing answer."

* * *

I've realized one thing in my life. It's nothing major or surprising to some people who have known me, and I think I have acknowledged this to myself more times than I could count with my fingers, but I am thinking about it again. I am slow – a universal fact. Especially during uncomfortable, confusing or shocking situations where my mind turns blank. So of course, when I had granted Alice permission to come into my house today, I had forgotten one tiny problem.

The entire place is uncleaned. From the very dusty corner of my room to the hairy sewer of the bathroom… the latter must be somewhat taken care of. I mean, I used it this morning without a problem, but that's pretty much the only positive thought in my head as I fumble with the keys. They nearly slip from my grasp every few seconds and the fact that Alice is standing behind me isn't helping.

_Okay. Just go in, make something up, run into your room and make the entire place seem somewhat decent. _The plans of how I am supposed to bolt right in keep on swimming in my head and I bite down on my dry lips. The blood keeps on rushing into my skull, as I silently curse myself. _Even the dirty dishes are still in the sink… I am dead. _

The lock clicks and I open the door, gesturing for Alice to step inside first. She will see the disaster that is my house no matter in which order we go in anyway. Strangely, though, that thought is not comforting in the least.

"Wow," she gasps literally a second after stepping in and me closing the door. Her head tilts and turns as she looks around the hallway to the living room on the side and the kitchen, before turning back to me with a smile. "Your home is lovely."

Immediately, I remember my nightmare from last night and my entire body freezes. That's almost exactly what she had said in it. The only difference is that that was a nightmare, and this is a reality version of it.

"Thank you?" The words come out more as a question, but I do manage to smile a bit. _She's being serious again… right? _ I shed off my coat next and she follows after, watching how I put my things away on the hangers and then walk further in. "Want some food?"

"No, thank you. I ate quite well at lunch today," she glides in, still looking around calmly while I stare after her.

_Does she __**ever**__ eat at the canteen? _I am not very observant when it has come to other people. But I know from what the rumors have told and what I have seen a handful of times. The Cullen's merely sit in the middle of the sea of students, trays before them and untouched till they decide to leave and dump whatever they have into a trashcan. They do eat, sometimes, maybe even more times than I know or have seen. But I am certain that what Alice had on her plate today couldn't have filled her enough, whether she threw it away or not.

Still, I take her distraction as an opportunity to grab the dishes from this morning and start rinsing. The water is hot, and I nearly yelp out loud from pain, but keep it down, biting down on my lower lip. The water starts cooling down after two seconds which feels like an eternity. "Make yourself comfortable on the couch then. I will fix some snacks for myself."

This feels weird, more than weird, is what I silently whisper in my head. Alice is really in my house and when I look over my shoulder she has already sat down on the couch. The greasy brown leather looks more than unfitting together with her clothes and general appearance. _I just made a Cullen sit down on cheap leather that has suffered more than one stain from food products… huh. _

Gathering myself up mentally, I quickly dry off the dishes and put them away. First things first: snacks. But of course, this house barely has anything proper to offer and the only thing that lays at the bottom of one cupboard is an open bag of cheese chips from the weekend. Still, the bottom of my stomach twists from hunger and I grab it, emptying the entire content into a bowl. Although, my hands shake and end up spilling the chips slightly over the edge and to the floor.

"So," Alice's bell-like voice nearly makes me drop the bowl, "do you like cartoons?"

I frown a bit, finding the question strange coming from her lips and walk to the living room. "Well, I guess – what are you doing?"

Everything literally stops moving. The short girl turns her head to see me frozen like a deer and dread fills my gut. She's crouched down in front of the black screen, hands hovering near the bottom shelf where all the movies are stored. Or more specifically where all _Disney _movies are stored neatly in alphabetic order and series. Besides watching things from my laptop, this is where everything else is stored for me. However, once again, I have been slow and half-forgotten that these are the last things I want anyone from school seeing, much less Alice.

There are few things in this entire world that could rattle me to the point I feel like collapsing. And one of those is if someone touches asks or even sees my small collection. I'm not ashamed – not entirely – but I do remember how someone once told me that Disney is full of movies for little children, so that's where my over paranoid and protective mindset for showing them comes from. So, naturally, when the coldness from shock passes, my face burns. Like I literally lift on fire and my entire body becomes as stiff as a board.

After two seconds or more pass, the milky pale hand retreats and Alice's face falls. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude."

My mouth forms a _very _thin line, the gears in the head turning slowly. "No," I finally shake my head, "no, it's okay… What kind of movie did you bring anyway?"

She obviously hesitates, gaze flickering between my face and the set of movies next to her. But then she stands up gracefully, no signs of being put-off by her host's behavior showing, and waltzes right towards her bag on the couch. While she searches, I try to calm down and set the snacks on a small night table. Still, the calm appearing act does not stop the fact that my cheeks feel warm.

_Calm, just keep calm. _I inhale, silently shooting the movies on the shelf a heated glare like it's their fault I'm suddenly feeling more than uncomfortable. It's stupid of me to be embarrassed or ashamed of my infatuation with these cartoons, but those are exactly emotions that certainly tense up my shoulders right now. Alice's probably thinking how ridiculous it's for me to have these here, even if she's not outrightly showing it.

"Have you watched the White Chicks?" She asks, pulling the said movie out of her handbag.

I let my surprise to be evident – to both dissolve the stiffness on my shoulders and the somewhat tense atmosphere – and lift both my eyebrows. "Um, no. I've only seen trailers."

"Perfect!" She grins and looks then at the television. "How do I…?"

"Just let me do it. This thing is ancient anyway," I say and take the movie from her calmly. "You sure you don't need any food, though?"

"Yes, quite certain, but thank you," she answers pleasantly and sits back down on the couch, as I start working with the screen. We both fall into silence, though, and the only sound in the entire house comes from the wind howling outside and my fingers playing with the equipment.

This silence is familiar to me, surprisingly. This is mostly how I spend my days in this house. Unlike what I had originally thought, the Cullen girl doesn't start prattling on and on about different subjects. In fact, even during our walk here, she was more tight-lipped than what I expected. Even back in school, she has until now come at me with such a cheerful disposition that it's natural for me to have assumed her to be some kind of human jukebox, simply speaking. And when I am done and the movie starts playing, I look over my shoulder at her to see the pale-faced girl simply sitting with her knees together and back straight with a small smile on her face.

Honestly, even if the only people from my age group I have mostly ever associated with are limited to Alex during these recent years, I can tell that her posture is more than a bit rigid. Even her shoulders form two perfect ninety-degree angles downwards, creating a square shape. It's like she's more nervous than I in this entire situation, but I shake off the thought. There's no way she is like that – the smile on her face is too pleasant to be uncomfortable.

However, when I sit back down, keeping a good distance away from her and giving us our space, her posture doesn't change. Mine is not that too different from hers and we both continue sitting in silence. Everything has become more than a bit awkward, but I try bearing it and concentrate on the show, occasionally glancing at Alice from the corner. She's keeping her gaze straight ahead, though, not even inching or adjusting herself on the couch. I envy that composure, no matter how uncomfortable she looks, because I keep on fidgeting almost every few minutes, sweating and wondering what to do.

_Is she regretting coming here? _She must. I bite down on my lower lip from this thought and look down from the television to the ground, mood dropping further down from the thought. I can't stop it. This place must be more plain and common than what Alice is used to, given how her family dresses and drives across the town. Not to mention her father is a great doctor, from what I have heard at least. So, money shouldn't be a problem for them. The petite girl must be used to luxury, to something more extravagant than this house. She only probably felt bad for me to have become a topic of the school from spilling all that paint on her brother, so this visit is all done from pity.

Suddenly, the silence is broken by the pixie-like girl letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry, about Rosalie."

Immediately, the flash of memory from today, after school, hits me. The glare those dark eyes had given me, and the way the blonde's shoulder had bumped hard against mine. I lift my hand to stroke that said shoulder and look at the movie playing out before us.

"What about her?" I ask, playing dumb for no reason.

"She was being," Alice trails off, for the first time what seems like forever, moving her head with a thought, "_rude_. I saw how she bumped into you earlier at school."

"It's fine, but… did she have a bad day or something?" I ask hesitantly, turning my head to look at her with slight curiosity. It would be nice to know why I was being physically assaulted like that, after all.

She looks at me with an apologetic smile. "You could say that. She and Edward have totally been under the weather lately, but I'm sure it will get better after some time. They only need to calm down a bit and Edward especially will have to take a break from school for a little while to recover."

I give a slight nod to her explanation, finding a bit more sense in everything, despite the fact that details are more than a bit foggy. I push the nagging curiosity away, thinking this is her family matter. "I see."

"You are with him in the same biology class, right?" She asks and after I give another nod she frowns. "Was he… acting strangely in any way during that period? He did text us that he left the class early."

"Well," I purse my lips, wondering if I should be blunt or sugarcoat the truth. I choose the former. "He was, I think at least, kind of glaring at the new girl that sat down next to him."

"Bella Swan," Alice states more to herself and looks to the side, eyes staring at the television screen, but not appearing as if they see a thing from that. "That's the new girl's name."

I snort a bit, remembering that pale girl's nervous state the moment she walked into the class. She had actually appeared like a rabbit or a deer when stepping in and getting all those stares. "Yeah, everyone was kind of ogling her."

The dark-haired girl's lips quirk up. "I remember, when my family moved here, we also got a bit of attention."

A slight smile actually appears on my face, as well. "That's an underestimation. I remember how someone spread a rumor of you guys being some kind of a long-lost royal family or something along those lines."

It happens in a second, Alice's entire face morphs into a completely different expression. Her eyes cringe from the sides and her white teeth come fully into view. A bell-like giggle fills the entire house and she leans back, entire composure relaxing.

"We did cause some commotion, didn't we?" She asks good-naturedly in a nostalgic manner.

"Yup," I reply, but unlike her, there is no laxness in my posture. Rather, it's a surprise that she found my comment that amusing and not uncomfortable. I at least felt the latter, when I heard this rumor for the first time. But instead of bringing up this opinion of mine, the cheese chips fill my mouth and another silence falls over us. This time it's much lighter and even a slight smirk starts forming on my lips after a while.

* * *

It comes as the worst possible timing in my entire life and as the most ridiculous mistake as well. One second, I am holding a steaming mug of tea calmly and the next a huge sneeze ends up splattering the liquid against my lower face. The liquid isn't too hot, but it isn't exactly what you would call lukewarm and my eyes blur over with tears.

The tea drips down my chin and my mouth is open from the yelp of pain that escapes from it. Many thoughts race through my head, but most of them are muffled by a voice yelling that my face is on fire. Everything else pretty much doesn't matter.

Alice's clear sharp gasp pierces the air and through my whimpering. Her chair scratches the ground from standing up suddenly. "Trixie!"

"AH!" I yell out in pain again and quickly bolt to the sink, cursing myself loudly in my head. The skin has begun to ache, still feeling the burning sensation and sending sensations of the entire layer being boiled. Hopefully the later will stay as a simple figurative worry in my head, is what I pray as ice cold water starts pouring down on me.

The second numbness spreads, I let out a sigh of relief through the rushing water, gasping for air. It works – there's barely any pain around the areas where the hot liquid splattered. And that's precisely why I reluctantly draw my face away from the cold. The second the room temperature hits, the skin throbs and warms up from all the blood rushing in the damaged areas. From both shock and embarrassment, my hands hover over those spots, eyes switching to stare at the table where the filled cup is surrounded by spilled over tea. _Idiot, idiot, idiot! _I close my eyes in frustration, letting a single tear roll down before opening my eyes again.

And then Alice comes to the picture, staring at me with wide eyes, without blinking. She's standing on the other end of the table, looking lost at what to do. Her hands are limp at her sides, but it's her jaw that is firmly closed, which almost makes it appears as if she's clenching it and gritting her teeth together. Although, the way her entire body stays motionless lets her appear as an unmovable statue.

Without any reason, a shiver travels down my spine. It isn't that I am _that_ extremely worried about the tea being spilled – _oh, who am I kidding? – I am going to have blisters and totally embarrassed myself just now –_ but it's the petite girl's stance that sets me off. I could expect her to be a bit freaked out by what happened or anything along those similar lines, but not complete stillness. Or how she has clearly taken some steps back from where she had sat a few moments ago.

My eyebrows finally knit together. "Alice?"

The moment we make eye contact, the tenseness disappears, and she blinks. Her mouth opens for a second, but then closes, before opening again to ask: "Continue pouring cool water on your face."

"Um," is what unintelligently comes out and then I give a small nod, before turning on the water again.

She doesn't speak, but when I look at her from the corner her smile is tightlipped. She's not looking at me, though. "Just be like that for a bit, while I call my father."

"Wait, what? You're going already?" I ask and am about to close the water and straighten up when she places her hand on my back. The touch is sudden, and I nearly jump from the contact.

Alice pauses, keeping her hand steady where it's. However, there's hesitance in the touch now and a frown tugs the corners of her mouth. "I'll call him to come over here. That tea might leave burns, so it's better that he takes a look."

"What?" I repeat, voice muffled slightly by the water's rush. My face is morphing into a confused and then panicked expression. The stretching of my face causes some discomfort and tightness and I have to twist the handle and straighten up. "No, no, no, no, _no_. There's no need for that. I-I'm sure he's busy, your dad. You don't have to call him or – "

"Oh, hush," she says gently and starts searching for the number, detaching her hand. "He'll pick me up at the same time. It will not be a bother for him, I'm sure. So, don't worry about it and continue washing."

"Still, this is nothing," I try insisting and look helplessly between her and the wet surface of the table. _Great. More guests and I'm a mess. _

While I am mentally crying and wondering how I'll survive this night, Alice is already speaking into her phone and walking towards the entrance of the kitchen. She starts speaking in a hushed tone a second later, a sign that someone picked up her call, but also like I'm not meant to hear a word that's being spoken. It makes me feel more insecure – if I do not know what's being said, how would I know what is being really discussed? Of course, there's no way that she could be saying anything bad about me. My clumsiness to be exact, but an invisible weight does settle into my chest. It's kind of late already and the last thing I need in here is more company because of something like this.

I bite down on my lower lip, not knowing what to do for a long moment, but then grab a rag and start cleaning the table. Honestly, something catastrophic or embarrassing was bound to happen today. Nothing could go flawlessly, especially, if someone is a nervous wreck. And here we are. I allowed myself a few minutes of relaxation and this the end result. The more I recall what happened, the more I feel incredibly and insufferably idiotic and clumsy. Who in the world has ever ended up like this because of a mere sneeze?

The moment the entire table is clean again, it's almost forgettable that there was an incident. The only reminder of the reality is on my face, though, and it continues throbbing. I inhale deeply, not knowing what else to do anymore. _Well, it's no use to be crying over spilled milk. Or tea, in this case. _

Suddenly, Alice turns slightly back to the kitchen. "Does your face hurt? Is there aching?"

My gut drops, thinking that it's her father who is asking these questions from the other end. "A bit."

"She says it does… Yes, I am… No," the petite girl turns her back to me again, but she does not whisper or lower her volume this time around. "Alright, see you later… He says he'll be here in twenty minutes or more and that you need to keep on pouring cool water down on your face – no ice allowed."

"No need to tell me that twice," I mutter, but from how serious she looks I have to turn around and turn on the water again, lowering my face to the sink.

Despite wearing heels, Alice barely makes noise as she walks to the table and sits back down to her original spot. She has a cup in front of her, too, but it's not tea what's in it. The pale girl had decided to drink water and eat a few chips, which could have been an option for me, as well. But no. I had to take the damn tea.

"This is certainly a peculiar finale for our evening," Alice suddenly says, and our eyes meet again. Although, it's awkward for me considering the angle I am looking at her from.

_A peculiar finale? _I nearly raise my eyebrows and pull my face away from the water for a moment. "That's… an interesting way of putting it."

"I have had fun, though," she continues, leaning back much like I have and smile widening. "I don't really recall a time when I was in a friend's house like this."

It's from pure luck this time, that I am not drinking anything and it's pouring down on me, to begin with. In fact, I am so grateful that I am mostly empty-handed from further embarrassment and that the rushing liquid covers somewhat how my mouth opens in shock. A blink later, I am still looking at her smiling face and she meets my surprised gaze without any problem. The expression she wears is dazzling to the point that I have to look away.

This girl, this one insanely mysterious and strange girl, who literally started fully talking to me less than a week ago, is actually suggesting that she sees me as a 'friend'. Not only is it unexpected, but I am also in the strangest position possible to receive such information. I am baffled, beyond that. All those thoughts of her having a second motive all this time waver and a sharp piece of guilt makes me bite down unconsciously on my tongue. We are different, is the first thing that comes into my mind. Both in looks, family matters, lives… everything. Even while we were both casually sitting in the living room's couch, I kept on comparing these things. We basically have nothing in common. Everything of her, from the top of her dark hair to the dainty feet in fancy heels, are all so different from what I'm used to, what I am.

My mind has become blank. Not even the aching of my face wakes me up from it and I want to pinch myself. _She's… being serious, right?_

"_Who knows, you two might as well become best friends."_ I stop breathing for a second, the water running down my face, dangerously close to suffocating me, has nothing to do with it. _Of all times for Alex's words to come at me… _Now I just feel like a total jerk.

"You know," I start slowly, pulling away from the sink, "you're the second person I've brought into this house. To hang out, I mean."

Immediately, a flash of brunette hair passes my thoughts. Alex was the first one I brought here, he's the only one I have really considered as a friend for a long time. So, maybe that's one of the reasons why I can't believe that I am even revealing this to Alice. The moment the words register in my head, I start feeling vulnerable and slightly regret that I have even opened my mouth. It feels really weird – all of this is too surreal.

Very slowly, I lean back down and let the water ease the aching on my skin. It's like a small cover for me, but I manage to still feel too visible.

"Oh?" Now, it's her eyebrows that rise up. But there is no sign of judgment for my antisocialism. Rather, she looks pleased and leans to the side until half of her body is tilted, similar to my position. "Well, I'm glad to have taken the silver place."

A silence follows. Alice doesn't remove her gaze from me and continues leaning without showing any signs of discomfort. Her expression is open, honest and the small smile on her face is the same. Maybe, if this would be a more normal situation where I wouldn't embarrass myself, her unwavering stare would be less strange and uncomfortable. The problem is that it's not, despite the slight swelling of emotions in my chest.

I look away, again – a stupid and rude move towards someone who is being nice, I know. Still, I swallow the guilt… but a second later a small smile spreads on my face. And I got a feeling that Alice sees it because she chuckles.

There's, once again, nothing to discuss, but I prefer it this way. There is no better way to gather my thoughts right before another stranger – a father – waltzes in to see what kind of person his child has been hanging out with for the past few hours. First impressions have never really been my forte, but this is the first time when a father of someone I know has to come to check on my 'injuries'. The reality of it all makes me both blush and turn pale. Without a mirror, I can't really tell what I look like, but there must be more than faint redness.

_Gosh. This can't get any worse. _I let out a quiet sigh, getting both a headache, annoyance and the shivers constantly rocking my body. Slight irritation flares my features. _I told dad to fix that heating system… I will blame him for this. _

Suddenly, a loud noise of tires shrieking from the outside makes my heart jump and rise up from the sink. I look together with Alice out of the window to see a bright light coming from the dark. The sound of an engine going off is what brings the silence back.

"Didn't he say he would be here in twenty minutes?" I ask randomly, breaking the ice. _That's one fast driver. _

As if knowing where my thoughts are going, Alice looks at me with a small smile. "He must have been closer than he thought."

There's no expression on my face, as she stands up and walks to the door with me awkwardly trailing behind. It's as if she's the one owning and living in this place and not me. Rather, I feel suddenly very uncomfortable and tense in my own skin. _Here we go, _I think silently and start brushing some of my bangs behind my ear to look somewhat normal.

"You certainly arrived here fast enough," is Alice's first comment, when she opens the door without hesitation or waiting for the sound of knocking or a doorbell. Immediately, a cold wind blows in and there's already a person standing at the bottom the porch. His form is hidden by her by the difference in platforms they stand on.

"Yes, well, the roads weren't actually filled with traffic," a voice replies. It's a pleasant sound, actually – calm and smooth. And an opposite to the terrible screeching of wheels from earlier.

Alice crosses her arms. "Are they ever? Anyway, Trixie."

Immediately, I stiffen up further and have to gather myself up quicker than anticipated.

First of all, I already look like a mess, not to mention that I forgot to wipe my face from excess water dripping down on it. Quickly, I use my sleeve to take care of it, but not without losing more of my pride in the process. Who knows what kind of damage the tea has done already? _No, no, no, don't panic. This is __**your**__ house, everything is fine. You can do this. There's nothing to be ashamed about in this. _

Without any hesitation or a pause, my new apparent 'friend' turns slightly sideways to let her father in, and I swear my sweating becomes visible. Things truly could get worse, when it comes to me, it seems. Whether it's from pure coincidence or the entire family are long-lost relatives put together under strange circumstances, but I can see where the Cullen siblings' genetics could really come from. Dr. Cullen, as he's known throughout the school, is truly young in appearance. So much so that I find it hard to believe him to be raising a bunch of teenagers.

Blond hair, much like Rosalie's, but far shorter, is stark against the dark background along with snow pale skin. He's dressed in a dark jacket but otherwise doesn't appear to be in a greater need for warmer clothes, despite the chilly wind that continues blowing in from the open door. I, at least, shiver from the contact of the breeze.

There are dark circles under his eyes, but otherwise, the darker irises look at me with friendliness. He takes a step inside and raises his hand. "Good evening, Beatrix. My name is Carlisle Cullen."

_I know, _I almost blurt out, sliding a silent gaze towards Alice whose smile widens just a tad bit as she closes the door. However, it does little to drop the chilly temperature of the entire house. In fact, I start to slowly, and more than a bit awkwardly, lift my hand as well. But immediately feel a shock traveling through me at the moment of contact.

Now, there's nothing even close to medical knowledge on the human body – expect what I was taught in seventh grade's health class – in my brain. But I am pretty sure that the hand I am holding is below what is considered as normal human body temperature. Mr. Cullen's skin is freezing like it's just as cold as the water I used to cool down my skin earlier, if not colder. The hold he uses is firm, despite the fact that his fingers should be numb.

I managed to look him into the eyes – one of the most painful things I have ever done in any kind of awkward situations – _this is the worst_ – and swallow the lump in my throat.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Cullen."

"Likewise," he smiles, showing his pearly white teeth similar to his daughter standing next to him. For a moment after we let go of each other, his dark eyes slide to her. "Alice has told me a lot about you."

"You don't have to tell her that," the said girl nudges her father and smiles innocently to the questioning look I send her. A wink is the only answer she gives to it.

"Alright then," Carlisle's voice takes a sudden professional turn and he gestures the kitchen around the corner. "Let's all sit down, so I can take a look at you, Beatrix."

Even if the walk is short, I can see some similarities with the way the daughter and father duo walk this small distance. Alice is graceful and appears as if she's floating – I've noticed this too many times back at school – Mr. Cullen's are also graceful with longer strides. They both barely make any noise at all, which is probably the hundredth time I am taking note of this.

When I sit down, I feel like I can breathe slightly again. The dark-haired girl sits down on the opposite end, while the blond man takes a seat in the middle of the two of us. For the second time, my eyes dart between the two, following how the color schemes and features are similar. _Seriously, adopted or not, the apple didn't fall too far from the tree. _

As the doctor pulls on the chair and makes it very clear to approach me, I lower my eyes bashfully, praying that my already acne scarred face doesn't look worse. Mr. Cullen doesn't even blink when he looks around the places where the tea has splashed on my face, not once looking me in the eye. That's what makes a sudden lump in my throat grow. His silence and stare are both worrisome and I glance nervously at Alice. She's not looking at me, unfortunately. Her attention is focused on her father instead.

"How hot was the water exactly?" He suddenly asks, lifting his gaze from the lower part of my face.

My throat feels tight under his straightforward eyes and I start looking away, finding distraction in the teacup left on the table. "Um… not sure. I-it wasn't steaming or anything."

"I do see slight redness," he continues, lowering his eyes for the second time, before looking back up. "You said it hurts."

"Yes, or aches more like it."

Without waiting for anything else, he reaches for his jacket's pocket. "Do you have any pain medicines in the house? And do you have any allergies?"

"Um, no and no?"

"Then I'll subscribe you some mild painkillers for the long run," he pulls out a small bottle, rattling with pills inside.

Once again, I nearly raise my eyebrows in the presence of a Cullen, as the object is placed into my hands. The expression I wear must look like there's some kind of an oddity in the room, which kind of is, or are. But as soon as those dark eyes rise up, I smile a bit to not look too stiff.

He returns the small attempt with his own polite one. "Now, unfortunately, I do not have any ointments with me, but you should press a cool – not freezing – wet cloth or something similar to your face for a while. There might be some swelling and redness, though. However, that should disappear in about a week, from what I can tell. By the way, do you have any honey in your house?"

From the point where he said the symptoms that my face might suffer from, my mind went blank and Mr. Cullen's words started going in from one ear and out of the next. Terrible images of me just walking down the school's hallways red and swollen on the face and other pupils laughing just flashes dangerously in my brain. It's like preparing for a horror movie, but you've already seen the spoilers and are still shaking.

So, naturally, I blink in confusion from hearing half of the question. "Huh?"

The corners of his lip twitch in amusement. "Do you have any honey in your house? I know it might sound a bit silly, but it can be used in this case as an ointment to prevent possible damage on the skin."

I trail off, trying to think what truly is behind these cabinets. Although, using honey on something like this does sound quite 'silly'. "I think so."

"Apply it on your burns," he instructs and then pulls out a small notebook and pen. "You should also buy real ointment. I can't say that this is a bad case, but better safe than sorry."

"Alright then. Thank you," I reach out and take the small note he rips off. It's filled with quite neat handwriting and the name of what's probably the unfamiliar product I will have to use. However, the more I make sense of the text, the more the uneasiness in my stomach grows. "You said that the redness will go away in a week?"

"Yes, but if you take care of it, maybe less," he answers easily, clearly detecting the uneasiness from miles away if that look in his eyes is anything to go by with. He starts picking up his jacket again, though, and with that, his amusement is wiped. "Best be on our way, though. Do take care, Beatrix."

I stand up, feeling a bit relieved, if not also horrified, by this doctor's visit. At least now I know how to take somewhat care of the problem that is on my face. Plans of actually evading going to school tomorrow and days forward are already forming, when suddenly something stiff, but gentle wraps itself around me. It may be due to still being stupefied by everything so far and the fear of having the face of a troll, but my mind only comprehends what's happening after two seconds. Short locks of hair tickle the side of my head and the difference in stature makes Alice's chin rest on my shoulder.

The scent of flowery perfume waffles and the arms tighten when there is no response from me. The action is highly unexpected so that my entire body keeps on staying stiff as a board. Still, when the shorter girl draws back, she has a wide smile on her face. However, like today back at school, I can feel no warmth radiating from her, regardless of the fact that we are so near each other. Despite me having a thick shirt on, I can feel almost nothing from the embrace. The heat on my face fades, replaced by the slight burning of my skin from the water burns and coldness that otherwise spreads around my body.

"Bye now, Trixie," she says kindly, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

The expression I wear must appear incredulous to her, but I do manage a small smile and start walking with her towards the door. Although, the different sensations from the hug still make me feel puzzled if not slightly freaked out.

From the sidelines, Mr. Cullen's immobile figure waits for his daughter, but strangely I catch a peculiar expression on his face. It appears as if he's frowning.

* * *

"…and then I decided to search for the honey. Luckily, there was some in the house, for some strange reason. I don't remember asking dad to buy that stuff, ever," I finish, wetting my dry lips and leaning against a wall with an almost bored look on my face. The sun is not showing behind the clouds, but it's still in the middle of the school day and I am feeling worn-out.

The other end in the phone stays deadly quiet for a while, the only thing breaking that silence is the distant silence of other students from all over the school.

"_Okay. I'm lost," _Alex finally utters out. _"You watched the White Chicks with Alice Cullen?"_

A frown tugs down my eyebrows and lips. "That all you heard? Really?"

"_You've got to admit that it sounds really impossible," _he comments easily, clearly not speaking about the main issue. _"I mean, I knew that she was a bit strange, but wow. I would have picked her as a more of Dracula or Edward Scissorhands kind of girl, but I guess not."_

"I just spent," my eyes dart to the clock in my phone, "five minutes explaining what happened and you are thinking that the movie was the strangest thing? Sometimes, just sometimes Lex, I really – A-achoo!"

The boy on the other end lets out a low whistle. _"Wow! That was one loud sneeze."_

The wind blows harder, reminding why I should return back inside and not sit here against the school's wall and soak my jeans on the moistures grass. A shiver rocks my spine right after the sneeze has and I bite down on my tongue. Honestly, despite my friend speaking in a light-hearted manner and clearly not taking this conversation as seriously as he should be, I do feel a bit better from talking with him. Still, the chilly breeze feels far more than a bit harsh on my face and lowers any positive emotion I might possess.

Never before have I woken up, seen my face in the mirror and felt disturbed beyond belief. There's no mirror here, but it's mostly because of my current features that I have come here to hide. The skin around my mouth and partly the tip of my nose and cheeks are flushed, clearly showing in more reddish colors – tender to the touch, throbbing and quite humiliating.

"_Does your face hurt?" _Alex asks suddenly as if knowing what's going through her mind.

"Yeah, a bit. It helps when I put something cool on it, but I don't exactly want to walk around the place with a rag on my face."

"_Why did you even go to school, if it's that bad?" _He asks, completely confused and lost with my way of thinking.

Staying at home would have been a much better option, but I end up only sighing and shaking my head. "We have a small test in math today and it will also have some effect on our final grade, so…"

For the second time, the other end of the phone line is silent. _"…couldn't you have just gone to that one period and leave for the rest of the day, then?" _

My face flushes and I shift, starting to rise up from knowing too well that the time for that very test would start soon. "I still have other subjects as well, you know. I'll fall behind… Also, Alice forgot the White Chicks movie to my house, and I am still planning on returning it to her. But it seems that she's not even at the school today. She would have been present in the Cullen table otherwise."

"_Hm. Maybe she's sick?"_

"Possibly. Her brothers, Edward and Jasper, were also gone," I sigh out when thinking how puzzling the sight of the only two Cullen's present at the table had been.

A chuckle breaks the train of thoughts. _"You sound like you've been keeping a good eye on them lately."_

A sarcastic laugh leaves from my mouth. "Nice try. I actually liked how yesterday went… could have been better without this burn on my face, though."

"_It can't be that terrible, can it?"_

"How about I'll come down to the hospital later to show you?"

The bell rings perfectly right after the question. I start walking out of my hiding place, ready to face another row of stares and snickers in the hallway with my head down. However, I have come to notice that it is no better than when I became one of the top news of this school during the last semester from splashing red paint all over Jasper Cullen. That thought alone gives me slight – very _thin_ and slight – hope that these mockeries will end sooner or later.

Alex must be hearing the ringing from his side because he lets out a sigh. _"Well, I'll try calling you later."_

"Okay," I pause right before I am about to turn around a corner. "Good luck with the surgery. I'm sure you'll pull it through. So, just hang in there, Lex."

"…_Thanks, Trix."_

The line is cut off and the ringing of the bells pauses, leaving me alone and silent standing on the spot filled with overly grown grass. For some reason, this conversation didn't give me as much encouragement as I had hoped it would. Instead, it has left a very bitter taste into my mouth and weights down on my thoughts. The memory of last evening isn't exactly what causes it, though. It's like the entire universe has suddenly decided to surround me with imaginary dark clouds when there are real ones high up in the sky.

_Focus. _I let out a deep sigh and finally get my legs to move towards the next class. _Test first, social troubles next, _is the order that my brain organizes the problems and difficulties with. In this context, however, no matter how I try recalling equations while walking, nothing stops the brain from making certain people's heads pop into it. Because of this, I also nearly trip on nothing while walking up the stairs. _Forget about everything else._

I turn around another corner and see the door to my math class wide open. Unconsciously, I must start walking pretty fast since in a few short seconds I am in, seated and taking out my pencil case. It's a rather of a surprise that the chair doesn't fail from under me.

_Test first. Easy enough._ The teacher tells everyone to calm down, starts lecturing about the importance of this test for our future, laughing silently in advance to anyone who might have put the studying aside until last minute – which of course has happened – and starts spreading the papers around. The usual. No disturbances in any form or way anywhere near me. Even the seatmate on my left is sweating and secretly still checking from her book under the table for the answers.

_There is absolutely nothing for me to worry about. _I nod, confirming my inner thoughts and look down at the paper. Immediately, there's a mental hit to the brain from the sight of a calculation that I have certainly never seen before. Still, the pen in my hands moves faster than my thoughts.

The dark text is stark against the whiteness of the paper. The same whiteness that Alice and the rest of her family have. The same as Cullen's, Alex's deadly pale skin and…

_The same as… _I frown, clenching the pen in my hand.

There is really no reason for it, but a shiver gets to snake its way down my spine. No way around it: I can't finish this test without getting a grade below average.

* * *

High school bullying is nothing new. It is seen in drama shows and everyday normal real-life situations for hundredths of times a year. The entire process of bullying can be either very harmful or plain annoying – in my case it has become both.

The confrontation should be expected. After all, pretty much the entire school saw a day ago how the pixie-like Cullen walked away from the main building together with me. It's a fact that nobody can erase from their memories and I should have been more scared of the effects it would have because of that incident.

So, as I walk down the hallway and silently mourn from how miserably the math test went, someone's shoulder suddenly collides with mine, digging deeply into the bone and I wince. It's definitely irritating and uncomfortable, not to mention rude, but surprisingly I ignore it and continue walking. The bump is nothing compared to what Rosalie's collision the other day had felt like.

"Hey! Can't you even apologize, paint girl?"

_Oh, for the love of… _slowly, like there is invisible rust in the joints, I turn slightly to see a pair of snake eyes looking at me. Of course, just my luck to run into Lauren of all times. Not only that, but the way her brows are knitted together, and face flushed even underneath the makeup, anyone could tell that she is in an unpleasant mood.

"Sorry," is what I choose to say without missing a beat.

A second after that and before I can turn away, a sneering smile makes its way to her lips. It's easily guessed what her eyes are looking at for that kind of expression to form. "Your face really has been burned. Wow. You look like a mutilated clown."

The comment stings and makes my face flush. I become very aware of the people around us, the stares and wish to bury my entire head into something. The ground should just open and swallow me up from this humiliation. The throbbing of the burns starts becoming too much, but I still manage to keep my face neutral, though. Staying like this becomes a bit more than difficult with each second.

_Just breathe. You're more mature than her any day!_

"It seems like Alice isn't in school today," she continues without a pause. "I wonder… She was the one who gave you that burn, wasn't she?"

It is a struggle for me not to let the lower part of my jaw drop. The burning becomes worse, but this time I almost bite down on my tongue. The accusation is brutally forward to the point that the words dry up. I am left speechless and stare at her in disbelief, ears steadily being filled with the whispers of the other students around us. They have all heard what Lauren just said and really are taking it into consideration.

This isn't going right. I should have merely continued walking the very moment I heard this girl's voice. I am not great with confrontations, it's far easier to stay silent. That is one of the reasons why I have such a high resistance for her and the other bullying. Speaking up my mind is a big 'no' since it would only excite the ones doing the antagonizing. But still, despite knowing and being used to all of this, there seems to be a limit to my nerves, as well – my hand have clenched into fists without me realizing it immediately.

Again, the flashbacks from last evening – the very same thing that has kept my mind occupied – fills my vision for a second. Alice's smiling face is what mostly appears in it and keeps on making the boiling in my chest rise up in steam. I know that this is a bit hypocritic of me to suddenly be on her side when I was so suspicious of her motives not too long ago, but…

Now, a self-satisfied smirk is appearing on Lauren's face. "I also bet that she didn't come to school today because she didn't want to see your face."

"Are you certain it's mine and not your face she doesn't want to see?" I spit out without thinking. The sensation of doing so feels great, but soon that emotion switches with cold sweat trailing down my back. This is definitely not how you should answer to a bully, especially, if they have such petty reasons for trying to humiliate you.

Lauren does, however, appear surprised for a moment. I have never, if I recall correctly, answered back like this. "Getting cocky because she paid even slightest bit attention to you?"

It would be a lie if I said 'no'. The thought that one of the Cullen's asked to be – or more like decided so herself – my friend, is in its own silly way empowering. Nobody has really even talked to me in this school as much as she has. So, maybe that's why I get encouragement from the taunting question rather than get meek and give up from it. Still, though, my face feels flushed and it isn't because of the red burns. There's a pressure in the air restricting my chest and breathing. The sentences that could be formed next are mixing and turning into mud inside the place that is my head.

However, before I can come up with another comeback, a teacher suddenly cuts through the crowd of students. "Why are you all stalling in the middle of a hallway? Hurry up and get to your next classes!"

Both Lauren and I recoil a bit from this interruption, especially me. Whatever I was ready to say is stuck in my throat now. It must be because the teacher has managed to make me come back to my senses and immediately dread pools into my stomach.

As people start to disband, I turn around and try walking as naturally as possible down across the hallway. Even while sweating invisibly, paranoid side of me sees how hundredths of stares burn against my back and whispering continues. Whether it's still because of my burns or the confrontation, it doesn't really matter – every bit of it is humiliating. There should be nothing for me to be embarrassed over – Lauren is the one who should be feeling this way – but no matter how much I recall the way we exchanged words, I can't help but think of other ways where the situation could have been handled better from my part. _I can't believe what I was doing! _

I inhale deeply, once I am in an area with fewer people and clutch my bag as my life depends on it. The sweating is now worse, and I bite silently down on my tongue. For some reason, no matter how much I walk and get further away from the incident area, the heat doesn't come down. It's like the burns on my face have decided to spread.

_Alright… _I sigh and walk to the nearest bathroom and turn on the ice-cold water. _I am okay now. _I start splashing the water against my face and let it numb the throbbing spots. _There's no need to get all worked up because of this._ My hands clench into fists on the edges of the sink and again I inhale deeply for the second time.

It's only shortly after what feels like a few minutes, that I look up and feel even more down. The mirror only shows me the wetness and the red splatters, and I feel like crying. _Maybe, I should go home? _Slowly, I reach out and touch the burns, pressing my fingers down until they break the numbness the water has caused.

My face hurts, but the memory of much colder hand touching the skin flashes in my head. The weight of the borrowed movie in my bag is doubling.

_I should probably take a few days off.  
_


	5. Chapter 4: Eyes are the mirror

**Edge05: 'Poor' is a too weak word to describe the humiliation Beatrix felt… but yeah, I would have skipped school, too. Funnily, though, the more I think of her situation, the more I see myself with giant red pimples and walking down the hallway. We just deal with it. I hope that this chapter won't disappoint. :)**

**Marmite-1: Thank you! Here is a new chapter around one month later. Have fun reading it and thank you again for the support. **

* * *

_The eyes are the mirror of the soul_

_and reflect everything that seems to be hidden;_

_and like a mirror,_

_they also reflect the person looking into them. _

_-By Paulo Coelho _

* * *

_Chapter 4:_

_Eyes are the mirror_

* * *

The sound of the alarm clock makes me jolt up in tension that wakes up the rest of the body in a second. The beeping noise is loud and piercing, like a siren to alert the entire community of approaching threat – that is how I have always felt towards it. And even now I have no idea when or why the old thing has not been replaced yet.

Naturally, the sound still rings at the back of my ears, even after slamming it shut. I have done this so many times that it all happens with my eyelids closed, too. However, unlike during any other day, that is where the morning activity halts. I do not start stretching or sluggishly throw the covers off but stay mutely and immobile on the soft mattress. For once, there is no need for me to start panicking over being late to school and walk into a classroom filled with nosy students.

My face aches, giving a reason to stay in bed.

_Another day._

Disgruntle by the light coming from between the half-drawn curtains, I snuggle deeper into the covers and exhale tiredly. The day has begun and a small voice in my head tells me that I am not going to be able to go back to sleep. I am awake and have already opened my eyes once – there is no way I will stay on this bed for another few hours.

Knowing this painfully well, I roll over and over open my eyes again. The phone lays abandoned on the table, filled with text messages. Half of them have been left unanswered for a few days. They are all from Alex and the thought of him is tempting me to give him a call and ask if we could hang out. It isn't like either of the two of us have anything better to do. I have been nothing more than a lingering lazy teenager in this house for days.

Slowly, head spinning from getting up too fast, I make my way to the table and grab the phone. To my great shock, it has over five messages and my heart sinks. _Oh, Lex…_

The first one opens.

'_how is your face? is it better?'_

The sinking stone in my chest is lifted from the questions and I slum back down on the bed. Scrolling down, I choose the most recent message.

'_guess whose birthday is soon? will u come?'_

And just like that, my heart is heavy for the second time. This message was sent yesterday, and guilt creates an invisible boulder on top of my shoulders. Things have not been too sunny for a time now, but the fact that I have almost forgotten my best friend's birthday is too shocking. As if adding salt to the injury, I look over all the other things he has written to me and see that they are all filled with questions about how I am doing.

I may have gone to school that one day for the math test, but that is where I had drawn the line. Since then – through that shame _and_ humiliation – I have been merely staying inside the four walls of the house, nursing the face burned by mere tea. The score I would be getting from math would not be that high anyway, is what makes this all even worse.

A heavy sigh escapes from me. Flunking a test, walking through hallways with red spots across features and skipping school, when not even sick… how low I have fallen.

"Beatrix."

"Kyah!" I jump, sitting up with my back straight as an arrow. "S-stop doing that."

The man standing at the door doesn't even blink at the outburst. He isn't wearing casual clothes for home and the dark jacket for going out is painfully stark and obvious against the white background. The sight is not that surprising, though. Whenever he is in the house, he wears that jacket like a second skin. It always tells me that he has been out before heading inside and seeing me – this time he has come to check on me voluntarily.

My heart had jumped earlier from surprise due to his appearance and the fact the sound of the door opening was nonexistent. But now it beats again, the longer I sit on the mattress, clutching the phone and watching the man clad in dark standing like a statue a few feet away.

However, before I can even open my mouth again, there is a barely noticeable flicker in my dad's eyes. He is surveying my face, the direction of the gaze is obvious, and I lower my chin and eyes in slight embarrassment. Of course, the redness and swelling have gone down to milder level, but I still feel like hiding. Not only that, but the man's silent demeanor and motionlessness are unwavering, if not uncomfortable.

"U-um," I finally manage to mutter out awkwardly, "did you need something?"

"The school called," he says airily, not putting much weight on the meaning of the words. "They said you have been absent for a few days."

I bite down on my tongue, knowing full well that this was coming. However, the last thing I expected was for my dad to bring it up all of sudden. "Yeah. My face has been burned a bit, so I take a few days off until it is healed… and I texted you about this so you could call my school, too."

He doesn't look startled by my explanation, there are no signs of anything on his startlingly pale features half-hidden by the hat on his head. Rather, he doesn't seem to be listening anymore and starts to slowly turn away from the room. There was no interest in his behavior, to begin with, but for a moment there he had almost shown awareness towards my life. Now that it is gone, there is emptiness in the atmosphere.

Without really thinking, I rise from the bed and walk briskly out of my room. Maybe, it is because I somehow am childishly blaming him for the tea incident – if he had fixed the heating early, then I wouldn't have sneezed or chilled myself to the bone – but something within my gut is burning. The sensation is almost as bad as feeling that hot tea dripping down the skin again – hurts. He has seen what kind of injury I have, but doesn't even bat an eye, forgets to even check the message I sent him and now chooses to walk away.

"Dad!" I call out at the door, watching his back and how he stops in the middle of the hallway. He glances at me and that is enough to make whatever I truly want to say die in my mouth. "Can… can you please call the school and tell them I have been ill?"

_That is not it. _This is nowhere close to what should be coming out of my mouth and it leaves a bitter taste. I want us to talk, or I want to tell him how I feel. It would be better if he asks that himself, but I doubt greatly that that would ever happen.

_He won't listen. _

I falter, when he turns around to fully face me. There is no intimidation in his posture or expression, no indication that he is put off by the sudden outburst from me. The latter is probably what makes the irritation simmer and I bite down on my tongue.

"… Anything else?" His tone is void of any emotion, monotone. The worse part is that it isn't made to be sarcastic or exasperated.

The contact of my teeth with the flesh of my tongue is becoming almost painful. I drop my eyes down in defeat. It is so frustrating – every time I look at him, there is nothing more than an expression of emptiness and boredom of a passive man staring back.

My shoulders visibly slump down, but almost as soon as they do, they stiffen up again.

_Bitter. _

Instinctively, I let my hand hover above my nose, as if not sure whether to shut it or let it freely inhale. "What… what is that _smell_?"

The man hiding half of his features underneath his hat and high collar barely lifts an eyebrow but does turn fully around this time. I frown and look around, carefully sniffing and cringing every time the unfamiliar odor gets too deep into my nostrils. Desperate when the baffling and sickening stench starts making me physically ill, I look twirl around, eyes frantically darting across the place.

The smell is strong and has come out of nowhere. It is like one moment you are walking down a street and the next there is a lamppost slamming on your face.

_Appalling. _

"…probably the pipes," the silent man finally speaks up, making me look at him with a frown. "There have been problems with the area's sewers lately, too."

"No," I shake my head, looking at him strangely, squinting and trying to distinguish the hidden features. He is still fully turned, but it only seems like he is shadowing himself more this way. "This is… something _different_."

He doesn't move, again, not even blinks once. "Different," he parrots hollowly. He doesn't seem to be grasping the meaning, though, and I grow more agitated.

"Look, I don't know what it is, but – ugh! It is getting worse," involuntarily, I cringe and start backing away into my room. However, before I disappear from his sight, I give my dad one final look. "Since when have you ever been all-knowing of the things that are wrong in this place? You barely ever pay attention to the dates of the year."

The door shuts firmly, but that is the total opposite of how the ground feels beneath my feet. The curtains of the room are still closed, so the entire place is nearly dark, and nothing has a clear shape. It is so dramatically ominous and silent that I have to lean my forehead against a solid surface, like in a soap opera. But then I stiffen up.

_Shit. I need to use the bathroom. _

Groaning, I open the door again.

* * *

There is tiredness on both of our faces, but Alex is the one with the palest. He looks almost drained of energy and I find it miraculous how he can lay against large pillows and read the pages with a theatrical flair. But frankly, if someone was to look at him and listen to the lines without knowing the circumstances behind his state, they would be alarmed to silence.

We are not sitting at a restaurant or café anymore, but the atmosphere doesn't seem to be any different from those times. Both of us are amused by this strange piece of entertainment I brought. Not even the sight of the young boy in the hospital gown is enough to wipe a slowly growing smirk from my face.

Inhaling, I get more comfortable in my seat and strain my ears. No matter how scary, the words are intriguing.

"His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin; if you could hear, at every jolt, the _blood_…"(1)

A violent shudder breaks the tranquil state I am in. It comes from the wind from an open window and I stand up to close it. The passageway for fresh air is closed, so the sickening warm and bitter smell of the hospital replaces it.

I return to the chair cushioned by my jacket and look back at Alex. His face is grave, totally in-depth with the writings of a long-dead man. His eyebrows are raised to his thin hairline, nose pointed to the air and mouth pursed into a frown – I smile in amusement.

"Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs… Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud."

"My turn," I say and pluck the book from his grasp.

"Hey!"

A mischievous grin is the only look I spare to him, before looking down at the page and finding where he left. "Of vile… incurable sores on innocent tongues… My friend, you would not tell with such high zest… to children ardent for some desperate glory… The Old Lie: Dulce et d-decorm – decorum," I frown and look at the end of the poem in confusion. "This is not English."

Lex snorts, reaching out from his bed for the book and I let it slips from my hands. His eyes read the lines again and then he smirks. "Could have figured that from the name. Dulce et Decorum Est."

"Do you know what it means?" I ask, crossing my legs in mild interest.

He frowns incredulously. "Do I look like I do?"

"Oh, right. You're the guy who failed the German language course."

"Don't you dare bring _that_ into this. And don't forget I got a higher score from that than you in the French course," he points out with a snap and then looks back at the book. "Isn't this French, too? C'mon, try translating."

"I'm pretty sure dear old Mrs. Lowden would have a field trip from that," I answer wryly, recalling the pinched look my former teacher used to send. "And this doesn't look like French. Italian, maybe?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am sure."

"_Really_ sure?"

"Yes."

"That is the same thing you said when you tried to navigate through the town once."

"Hey, that was one time and two years ago."

"Sure."

"Look, I may suck at languages, too, but at least I can see that this isn't French."

"Tell that to your middle-school grades."

"Shut it, clusterduck."

His jaw drops and it takes a moment for a delighted smile to spread on his face. "Since when do you know loophole swearwords?"

I frown, not liking how pleased he appears instead of insulted. I am about to say something else, but the door to the room is opened and the bottom of my jaw clicks shut in an instant. Both of us are suddenly very still and the very first sight of a white coat is enough to drain the atmosphere from its playfulness. From one glance at Alex's blank expression, I can tell how unpleasant this is for him.

Barely thought of comforting him passes through my head when a woman is suddenly approaching my seat and I stand up, engulfing each other into an embrace. "Trixie, dear, how nice of you to visit."

The mother of my best friend looks almost nothing like him. Her hair is dyed pure black and it's wavy down to her shoulders while her eyes are cool grey, nothing like Alex's warmer shades. Still, the scent of the vanilla perfume she uses frequently tickles my nose and a natural smile spreads on my otherwise tight features.

And then I see the doctor who has arrived with her and the smile drops. Mr. Carlisle Cullen stands just a few feet away with a clipboard in his hand and a pleasant smile on his face. As a greeting to not disturb the moment between the older woman and me, he gives a single nod.

He is like snow – white, cold, _beautiful –_ just how we met almost a week ago. His appearance can't still blend in with the background, though. He is clearly standing out from everything else, but one thing specifically makes me frown back at his friendly gesture and expression… there is no sign of dark charcoal irises which I saw last time.

"Hello, Beatrix," he greets me, after a pause.

I swallow and give him a stiff nod. "Hello," is the only word that comes out of my mouth weakly. The dark-haired woman next to me is obviously looking between the two of us in confusion, but I still keep my mouth shut.

The object of my silence trails over my features. "I am glad to see your burns have healed nicely."

_Golden brown. _

"Beatrix, don't you have a bus to catch?" The bedridden boy says suddenly, snapping me back with a flinch. He is uncomfortable in his state now that there are more people in here.

I look between him and the clock hanging over the door, realizing how fast the hands are ticking forward. Stiffening up and knowing that he is right, I start gathering my things. "Oh, right. I should really be going."

"Hold it," Alex suddenly grabs the book of poems and holds out the page where we were reading from earlier. "We couldn't figure out what language this one's title is written with. Can you read it, Dr. Cullen?"

The reaction from my part is immediate: I stiffen and shoot my friend a look, telling him silently to let it go, but know that the damage has been done. Thoughts, that I experienced the evening Alice came into the house, fill my head and I start thinking once more that I have nothing against her family on a personal level. I am merely finding it very uncomfortable to be standing near the man who had seen my red-faced and messy self at my house.

With fluid motions, the older Cullen walks over and closer to stand next to Alex. He is now on the opposite side to where I am standing. Seeing this causes me to turn far more rigid and I purse my lips. In the beginning, what were the chances that the doctor treating my friend today is the father of the girl who suggested that same book for me?

"Why, Alexander," the mother of the brunette sighs in wonder. "I had no idea you still liked to read books."

"Ha, ha," Alex rolls his eyes at her teasing. "Very funny, but this is Trix's book."

Carlisle's lips quirk up from the two's interaction and he straightens up. "This is Latin. _Dulce et Decorum Est; _sweet and beautiful is."

The young boy's eyes widen. "Wow. You can speak Latin? Isn't that language – oh, I don't know – dead?"

Taking his amazement as the perfect distraction, I grab the book from his grasp and drop it into my bag. I give the older woman next to me one final smile. "Well, see you later. Like he said, a bus to catch."

"Thank you, again, for coming to visit," she smiles back, both voice and eyes truly genuine with gratitude. With her sickly son, there is only so much outsider contact that he can get in this building monthly.

I give the said son a small look. "Your party will be at ten?"

"Yeah."

"Good. See you later, then," I wave and round the ridiculously white and long bed with a few strides. I have a real reason to hurry, so I do not even glance or acknowledge the doctor's presence, even though I am much so tempted to glance back.

But the curiosity gets the best of everything – always – and so by the door, I look over my shoulder. The three people have turned their attentions away from me, luckily, but I slightly wish that the man dressed in white hadn't. For a moment, there is a nagging urge to take one last look at his features and see his eyes again.

I am pretty sure that they were _much_ darker the last time we met.

* * *

_In my dreams, I am always running. Whether it is because I experienced an impactful event in my childhood or everything is sheer coincidence, but as long as I can remember, both dreams and nightmares show me scenes where I run. Or at least attempt to. Frankly, picking up speed with the feet is not an area of a great forte for me, so the nightly images are always rather puzzling.  
_

"_**In all my dreams before my helpless sight… He plunges at me… guttering… choking… drowning."**_

_Dark, greyish green hues of the woods. Scrunches of branches broken by feet leaping across the forest floor. Thick bushes and stones cutting the flesh, scraping against the bare skin. There is nobody around, no sound of wind or sensations of cold. The long and tall trunks are closing in on me. _

_Barely any space to move, to __**bReAtHe**__. _

"_**If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace… Behind the wagon that we flung him in…"**_

_Finally, there are scents. The smell of pine and forest moss fill the air. The trees push each other aside, creating a clearer path. But this is all too strange – everything becomes too easy. _

"_**And watch the white eyes writhing in his face…"**_

_The world changes, spinning and turning, altering the steps where I could simply move forward. There is no way to take a turn without the roots stabbing the limbs. Something doesn't want me to have a will of my own, it guides me towards a direction where I shouldn't go to. Everything is barely real, I am the only thing breathing.  
_

_And running towards the doom. _

* * *

My eyes fly wide open and for some reason, the air in the room has gotten so stuffed and unbearable that it isn't enough to fill my lungs. I cough, sitting up and letting the dizziness muffle the frantic thoughts once I am fully up and out of the bed. And the moment I am up, something slides off against the covers and to the floor with a 'thud' – I flinch and crouch down. The book of poems by Wilfred Owen is barely visible with my hazy vision, though.

Then, through the blur in the mind, I recall falling asleep from reading it. _It's night, _is the natural conclusion once I walk towards the faint light coming through the window. I have an urge to open it. For some reason, during the deep sleep sweat has gathered up all over my body. The clothes I wore to the hospital are sticking to my skin and the sensation is sickening. It is like I ran a marathon and didn't even notice.

Delirious from the night terror and the sudden wake up are still in the work, as I stumble forward. But the closer I get to the glass, the more I can feel the coldness from the outside seeping through it. For once, I am grateful how my room is poorly constructed to produce heating from the floor.

_A dream. _

As if in a trance, I touch the glass and let out a sigh, watching the scenery on the other side. My eyes are not used to the dark, but the shape of the trees and the cloudy night sky are distinguishable… all too familiar to my nightmare.

I shudder, skin crawling from every piece of that dream which is coming back.

_A messed-up dream. _

Biting down on my lower lip, I look down at the small book and the line of my mouth thins further. This thing – this object made out of papers squeezed together – probably triggered my brain to produce such a nightmare in the first place.

Now frustrated from the fact that I even had to read the whole thing before and wake up in the middle of the night, I drag out a chair and sit down, eyes rising towards the forest. This is what usually helps if my sleep is cut short. Just trying to calm down. But even when I sit, there is a clenching feeling in the gut that tells me it won't be that easy. My mind keeps on racing and I am still soaked in sweat.

Clenching my eyes tightly shut in a desperate attempt to forget the nightmare, I inhale deeply, every inch of me tense for no reason. It is maddening. I have school the minute the sun rises up, but there is no hint of tiredness left in me.

With a heavy sigh, I resist an urge to turn on the computer and lean down to the rest my chin on my arms that are crossed on the hard surface. The clock is showing an hour past midnight on this same table. The sight of it only makes me more restless. I have only a few hours before school starts.

Slowly, I look back up to the forest, cursing the nightmare with every possible name I can think of. But that irritation falters, when the creepiness of it starts making my skin crawl.

And all of that becomes worse when I start closing the curtains – a dark mass moves, for a very small moment, by the forest line.

Without meaning to, my hands pull the curtains with such force that they could be ripped down. I am sweating, but this time knowing it is happening and quickly move back towards the bed. _I __**really **__need to get some sleep. _

* * *

I must be suicidal. That is the only explanation I can find to my insane – if not creepy – behavior.

After hiding inside this place for almost a week, waiting for the burns to heal, I was not so sure about going back to school. Maybe so much isolation has also caused me to make the most ridiculous decisions and gain stranger behavior patterns. That is the reason why I am _literally _hiding behind one of the school's fake plants just next to the cafeteria and glancing through the leaves and glass towards one single round table that barely anyone has the guts to approach.

_She's not here. _I bite down on my cheek, not liking how almost nothing has changed. However, unlike the last time I saw them, Edward is back at his usual spot. That leaves only two blonds and a one bear-like boy sitting motionlessly near him.

Finally, my stalking stops and I back away, thanking the luck for the food I have already packed into the school bag. There is no way that I have enough courage to march into the sea of people, considering over half of them saw my red and swollen face the other week. The movie is hidden inside my stuff, though, is the only thing that brought me remotely close to this place. And I really wished for a second that Alice could be present today. Carrying her stuff around is like a burden. If her brother has come back, then why wouldn't she do the same?

_Stupid. _

However, it is still strange how she is absent. Not strange like there isn't a possibility for her to be sick, but… I can't shake off a nagging feeling that something is off. Being paranoid is nothing new, but I do find it strange that just after being one evening with me, she wasn't at school the next day. Rosalina's heated glare and bumping me in the middle of a hallway… there could be something going on.

I end up mentally shaking my head, though. The more I try thinking of that family the crazier ideas pop into my head.

The second the locker with the number I recognize is on sight, I grab the keys and open it. Something falls from it, though, and I take a startled step back. Who knows? It could have been a prank or an animal, but the sight of a squared white piece of paper is somewhat relaxing… if it weren't for what it contains.

There is a picture attached to it, and I recognize the fingerprint of the school's newspaper club pretty well. Especially, when it is from an article that happened last semester. I am in the picture frozen with equally petrified Jasper Cullen and Alice standing next to me. The shades are grey and white, but the contrast between the white shirt and the giant splatter of darkish grey easily tell the story of what happened. The sight of the dreadful day staring me right in the face is enough to make my gut drop. The worse part comes, when I look down from the picture to see a colorful one of me walking down a hallway and red patches all over my face.

As if my body wants to show my embarrassment to the world and mimic the fresh picture of obvious mocking, it lifts my face on fire. _Oh. My. God. _Whoever has done this, obviously wants me to feel uncomfortable and it is more obvious from the writing at the bottom.

'_NICE MAKEUP PAINT GIRL.'_

It doesn't take minutes to figure out who or what group sent this. A smirky face next to the text is more than enough evidence.

A clearing of a throat makes me nearly drop the source of my shame and I whirl around to see an equally bashful expression. "Um, hi. I'm Isabella Swan, but call me Bella."

Despite knowing better, I frown at her. Of course, I know who she is from the last week, but to see and hear her speaking directly to me all of sudden brings goosebumps all over my arms. It's like meeting Alice all over again and the paper containing the pictures is crushed and hid quickly into the locker by my hand. My face must still be red, but for now, that should be ignored.

"Beatrix Stone," I say back, giving a mental pat for myself from not stuttering. Bella doesn't say anything after, though. She merely continues standing in front of me, holding few books to what appears to biology class and bites down on her lower lip in a nervous manner – I can totally relate to another awkward person. There is no eye contact.

Finally, though, the brunette looks up. "I know that… this may sound weird, but do you happen to know where Edward Cullen was last week?"

_Please don't tell me you are going to be one of those awful drooling fangirls in this school that wear low collars and will send lewd glances at one boy, _is the spray of words that almost comes out of my mouth. I can't stop those thoughts from entering my head or the way I open and close my mouth afterward from shock. Out of every possible thing, this is the last one that I expected to be asked about.

And that is why I end up crossing my arms. "No offense or anything, but why are you asking me?"

Again, the awkwardness returns, and she looks away for a second. "I was kind of told that… I'm sorry for just assuming, but I was told that you talk with his adopted sister. He and I kind of have a class together and last week, um," she starts trailing off, obviously in discomfort. "I am just curious if he had… maybe other reasons for being absent?"

"Well, the most obvious reason out of everything is that he might have been _sick_," I press on the word, getting a bit satisfaction from the sarcastic tone. But after seeing the expression on the new girl's face it is replaced with slight guilt. Suddenly, it is me who is feeling more awkward. "It's true that Alice and I have talked – a few times, mind you – and she did mention that her brother wasn't feeling too well."

"Oh, I see," Bella nods, almost robotically and bites once again her lower lip. She tries to smile, but even I can see how uncomfortable it is. Then, she repeats herself. "I see. Good to know. Thanks."

"Yeah. No big deal."

"Yeah."

There is a pregnant silence, despite the noisy cafeteria being only a little further away. The moment, when Alice had come and greeted me for the first time during lunch had been mortifying, but I honestly can't tell which meeting with a new person has been the worst.

Suddenly, I decide to put an end to the awkwardness. "You have biology ll next, right?"

Brown eyes blink and for the first time, I take note of how pretty her pale features are against the darker shades. "Yes, but how did you…?"

"I have the same class. I sit at the back, so you probably didn't notice last time … want to walk there?"

"Oh. I would like to, but I still haven't eaten lunch. Want to come and eat with me?"

"Oh, I see, but you see… I have already eaten. Sorry. But see you in class, then?"

"Yeah," she nods and turns away, brown waves luscious and shiny as she walks towards the place that I do not dare to set a foot on.

It is a blessing that she walked away without making further comments because as soon as she is gone, my legs carry me with the mind of their own. There is almost not a single thought, besides what just happened, raising through my head. Still, another thought does come up, when the temperature on my face is rising for what feels like the hundredth time during this less than two-week period. Why is it that when I actually try and talk to someone – get to know a person who is just as awkward as I am – it ends up with me standing alone in the hallway?

Honestly, it is still more than a bit puzzling why everything in my life is without warning spinning around this one family. It has been very much less than a month and nearly every day I am either thinking her, or her family, or hearing and seeing them. Even the hospital visit to Alex hadn't been an escape. The father of the Cullen siblings works in that place, too, for God's sake.

_I need tea. _The thought of going through two more classes, when I barely stayed up for the first few ones at morning is excruciating. There is no way anyone could survive this day with a few hours of sleep that I have had.

My steps slow down and I lean against a wall, once Mr. Banner's class is in sight. The lunch in my bag is forgotten. _I need Mom's tea… _the one that is running out.

* * *

The school ends peacefully. There are no further disturbances or problems. Even the memory of those pictures in my locker is gone from my mind within an hour. I do not even wonder who might have put them there. In fact, despite the rest of the lessons going forward slowly, I wouldn't have it in any other way. It is better to have nothing but daydreams in your head rather than heavy thoughts. This is what I consider to be the best advice I have ever given to myself – it has kept me sane.

Still, the entire being of Forks may have something against my peace of mind. I blame the weather patterns and have a conspiracy theory that some government agency is controlling it to make every misfortunate person on the planet even more devastated. True or not, it has started to rain _heavily_, and I have to walk through the water to get back home.

_Why me? _

This is the second time this year that I have forgotten to bring along an umbrella. And if there weren't any people surrounding me right now, I would break down in tears from exhaustion. Sighing quietly, I still begin to come out from the shelter of a roof. The cold drops hit the top of my head in a second.

_Why do things like these happen to me? _

Almost every other person I see while walking towards the road has an umbrella or a jacket that can't be permeated by water. I obviously have neither, but still drop the hood over my head, knowing that no matter what I would get soaked to the bone. Nevertheless, there is a fact that I can't accept: others can be on their way just fine and drive past me with their cars. It is infuriating.

Taking driving lessons should be useful. But what use would those do, when there is no car to a way to buy one, to begin with.

And as if the universe is against me for the second time today, a silver car – clearly making every other piece with wheels out of their league – rolls right next to me on the road. I am too bitter that someone gets to stay warm and dry to continue ogling the vehicle.

"Stone."

I stiffen. When your last name is the same as a non-organic piece of nature's you can hear it mentioned from time to time by random people. That is one of the reasons why I don't like my last name to begin with. It has caused me disconcerting situations over the years. I have responded to the word during more than a few inconvenient times. And that is precisely why I do not immediately assume that it is me who is being called.

The sensation of cold and tiredness are so strong that I even don't recognize the voice.

"Stone," the same voice calls out a bit louder and I jump from how close it is. This time, I know who it is even before turning towards the fancy car.

_Oh, dear sweet God, _I nearly sigh out, shoulders dropping. _Why is this happening? _Involuntarily, my limbs freeze, and I stop walking – the vehicle follows my lead and the breaks are placed. The rain continues to fall and freezes my already icy blood vessels. Jasper fricking Hale is sitting behind the wheel, expression void and empty, but the slight stiffness of shoulders is visible from how low the dark window has been rolled down.

He is here. A piece of an enigma that complicated my high school life way before Alice. And he has just voluntarily called for and stopped the car next to me. The latter only manages to create tension in my gut. This situation is completely different from how the interaction with the school's new girl went, so I do not even begin comparing scenarios based on the atmosphere. It is the same, though. Awkward.

All of sudden, I am even more frustrated that the cursed umbrella lays forgotten in my house. My entire being is screaming a drowned rat.

And just as suddenly he asks: "Would you like a ride home?" It throws me off. For the second time today someone's question throws me off and is not what I expect. My thoughts must be obvious in my expression because Jasper continues. "The rain will not let up for a while at least… You will catch a cold."

I almost snort from the last statement, not because I think of it as ridiculous, but more from how he said it. It's like you are trying to get an excuse to skip detention. A ride in a super nice-looking car does sound very inviting, but this isn't someone I even know well. Whether he is trying to be nice or not – for some very scary and unusual reason – the last thing I want to do is to risk getting into an accident in this kind of weather. And since when were we such close acquittances to worry about the others health?

"Thanks," I manage out. _Great work brain. _The way the water is making both my hair and clothes sticky is so uncomfortable. The longer I stand here, the more I can feel how my heartbeat picks up."But I can get back home by myself."

The sight of a corner of his lips twitching up could be the trick of the light and rain. "Alice would be quite upset with me if I let you walk all the way there in this weather. You _will _get sick."

_This is __**way **__too weird._

"Flu in the worst case," I mumble indecisively under my breath, avoiding eye contact and biting down on my tongue to keep myself from saying something extremely regretful and embarrassing. But then I perk up and take off my bag. "Speaking of Alice… Here is the movie she forgot. Can you give this back to her?"

To hand it to him I have to obviously come closer and stand around two feet away from the car. That is also how I can get a closer look at his features, too. Nothing is much different from how he usually appears in the school building. He is stoic, uncomfortable and barely shows any emotion. This, of course, makes things supplementary awkward for both of us.

The tips of my fingers are numb, and the water droplets are gathering up on the shell protecting the borrowed movie quite fast. My heartbeat has the same pace. Jasper doesn't so much as twitch. This immobile reaction causes my stretched-out hand to falter and I blink the rain off from my lashes. The longer I stand, the more convinced I am that the blond-haired boy inside a warm and cozy space doesn't realize how unpleasant it is to be in my position with only a hoodie to cover your head.

Still, though, up closer even Jasper's appearance is a bit off-putting. The golden wavy locks are tousled as if he had ruffled them before stopping the car. Opposite to that, his golden eyes dart between the movie and my face easily – _wait, what? _

The frown deepens and I squint my gaze. That is not right.

In stuffy and heartbeat raising situations my mind might turn into a mess, but I have never forgotten what color his eyes had the day I ended up pouring red paint all over him. They weren't bright back then. They were dark, smoldering coal that had shone with shock and anger – _rage_. These eyes are not a replica of those. They are just as obvious and startling, though. Just like Alice's.

I inhale sharply, both from shock and surprise. And that is how a prickling smell waffles into my nostrils. It is familiar and just as repulsive – I have to stop breathing for a second. But almost as soon as the emotion comes it is gone with a calmness that comes out of nowhere.

I shouldn't feel calmer, but even my heartbeat slows down. The smell remains, though.

_Dreadful. _

Somehow, I can tell what the stench is. It reminds me of meat, the kind that I would never eat; the kind I would find in a dumpster. With that, there is a small and sharp hint of rust, metal. This is not a normal smell, but it is the kind that I have experienced before. It is the same odor that was present in my house.

"I can give it to her if you accept the drive," he says with a straight face, breaking me off from the stupor.

The cold and tiredness must have already numbed the neurons because I merely stiffen up in disbelief from the suggestion. For a second, I think I am hearing one of the most boring and stupidest jokes of all time, but the seriousness of it all wipes those thoughts away.

It truly is true that I do senseless things while in uncomfortable situations. Without thinking and like from an impulse, I shove the movie through the window and into the car, listening for a moment how it clatters somewhere inside. A second later I am filled with shame and then embarrassment from rashness. Now, I have even better look at Jasper's features and a furious blush fights the coldness on my cheeks. The cold wins, when the stench hits me hard and I recoil back almost immediately. It is sudden and tears prickle the corners of my eyes furiously. The smell comes from the car, or rather from Jasper.

_What the heck does he have in there!? _The shame I felt for a second from throwing the movie into the vehicle evaporates. At the moment, I feel disgusted. My back stiffens into a straight arrow, but the calmness keeps on returning and I clutch the wet handle of the school bag.

My emotions are in disarray and they continue being so when what appears to be a frown tugs Jasper's eyebrows.

Instead of bringing up the smell or apologizing, I turn around. "No thanks."

The strange sense of calmness is gone the second I am a few feet away and pick up the pace. The terrible smell is left behind as well.

* * *

The house's heating system has been fixed, thankfully. The moment the door is closed firmly, faint white puffs of smoke come out of my mouth. The warmth is welcoming, but it makes every part of my frozen skin prickle painfully. It is like I was walking through thick masses of snow and not puddles and rainwater. Even without a mirror, I know what a soaked person looks like – horrible.

_C-cold._

Hurriedly, I hobble – that is the only way to describe how I move with wet socks on my feet – to the bathroom. The hoodie comes off with a shudder of disgust. It continues dragging along the shirt underneath and falls to the tile floor with a splat. The rest of the clothes don't come off any easier. All ten fingers on my hands are trembling and barely have any feeling on them. Even the floor which is not usually warm feels heavenly under my feet.

Instead of putting the piece of fabrics into a basket at the side, they all splatter down to the ground. The drain right next to the spot where they lay is soon filled with small rivers of water coming from the pile. I would have to clean it later, I am always the one trying to keep an order with a lazy teenager mind in this household.

_Icy. _

I do not fill the tub like usually. I merely turn on the water and immediately let it warm the top of my head.

_Numb. _

The last time I felt this cold, was back when I spent the first winter here in Forks. Stupidly enough, even then I did not put on any decent clothes for the weather. Had to walk back to the house till I was half-icicle, too.

As I shudder, every small hair on my body standing up, and bathe in the warm steam and water of the room, a variety of thoughts race through my mind. They have nothing to do with the school material still laying soaked inside the school bag, though.

The second I close my eyes and wrap my arms around myself, I see different faces. They all are pale, some blank from expressions and some holding smiles. Only one detail is something I hold as the most important of everything else. Their eyes, the eyes that belong to the Cullen's I have recently been seeing. It is certain, eyes don't change shade so drastically as theirs have.

_Golden-brown. _

The events from earlier last week come next. They are about Alice and her father, both of them in this house. Slowly, unconsciously, my still stiff fingers trail the side of my arm, the areas where the pixie-like girl had touched and the side where their shoulders had barely touched.

_There had been no heat. _

I flex the hand that Dr. Cullen had touched, and shudder. If that is his true temperature, then I bet he was just as cold as I was now in the rain.

_Pale transparent skins. _

Another face pops into my head and a frown tugs the corners of my mouth down. It is the face of the one I have seen and talked to for years, now. The one who covers himself in the dark or leaves preferably without a word or sound. And the second person to live in this house besides me –

"A-ACHOO!" A loud sneeze cuts off my thoughts and my stiff shoulders drop. "Ugh… Achoo!"

I am starting to regret not taking the ride home. Even if a dead body had been in that car, I would prefer it over the thought of snot covered nostrils tomorrow morning.


	6. Chapter 5: Cold room

**Kurochach: I am not going to spoil anything, even for the review you gave this story. Sorry. **

**Jemstone6259: I can actually and quite easily imagine this sort of drama, without the vampires, of course, happening in real-life high schools. **

**sousie: I will not confirm and deny anything. Stick around for the future chapters, as well. **

**xSiriuslyPadfoot: Thanks, I am glad I am making Beatrix appear sensible when it comes to strangers. Like, can you imagine meeting the most beautiful/hottest person you have ever seen in your life – you just met them, mind you – and then you just jump into their car? No thanks. I agree with how many of the fanfictions depict OCs that seem to always be drawn to vampires. I get that their appearance is meant to lure in prey and it apparently works, but… just no. **

**keikei313: Sorry for the long wait. Here is the new chapter that you and others have been waiting for. **

* * *

_It's so cold outside__  
__I'm alone, I'm alright__  
__It's so cold outside__  
__I'm alone, I'm alright_

_-By Neffex (Cold) _

* * *

_Chapter 5:_

_Cold room_

* * *

To say that I am a bit rattled by what happened yesterday would be an understatement.

I am positively ducking down at every possible second, whenever a flash of blonde or pale skin appears in the corner of my vision. Funnily, this is the exact same kind of panic-like emotion mixed with utter shame that I went through before in my school year. Bolts of cold and hot spread throughout my body, muscles rigid and shoulders constantly rising up to the level of my ears.

I could have prevented this, it is what I have been thinking throughout the day. There is pretty much no one else to be blamed for this transgression, but myself. I am supposed to be a mature soon-to-be-grown-up, yet, I have just gone and ruined whatever form of peace I could have in high school. _Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, _is the mantra that has been playing inside my skull for the past few hours, further highlighting just how bothered I am.

_At least no one saw. _

An urge to bang my head against a wall appears and washes away. I do, however, rub my face in tiredness.

The images from yesterday's encounter with Jasper just won't submit and leave. They have haunted me since I woke up and only intensified throughout the day. The very reason I haven't even eaten yet – the hunger is killing me – is because I didn't want to risk running into the source of my blood pressure in the cafeteria. Childish, stupid, I know. And incredibly unnecessary. Once again, I do not know what was going through my head at the time. All I remember from the hour of food is that I started sweating the second I looked towards the Cullen table.

I regret not taking an umbrella, not continuing walking and ignoring the call of my name and then throwing the movie right at Jasper's face. It was impulsive, purely done out of… I am not sure if I had any reason other than tiredness and nervousness to do so. The regrets have only become worse when I woke up this morning and could think somewhat more clearly.

The thought that this incident was not as horrible as the one involving red paint hasn't helped.

My eyes sting from dryness and I blink, eyelids heavy, almost refusing to rise up again. I am doodling, absentmindedly, half of the classroom's noises passing through my ears. I wish to stuff my head, though. The voices are unusually loud today, and the deepest part of my head winces every time the chalk scratches the board.

Again, I sweat but shiver soon after. The hand I use for drawing stills and tiredly lowers the pen. There is a messy picture of what was supposed to be a cloud – no, I probably wanted to make a flower at first – and is instead a dark mass of tangled lines. I sigh and rub my face again.

_Just what am I doing? _

"Miss Stone, what _are_ you doing?"

The sharp question is unexpected, and my chin tilts up sharply. Mrs. Brantley is standing in front of my desk, arms crossed across her chest. I know that look, I hate that look and tense in preparation for what is coming.

"Where were your ears, when I gave the instructions?"

Her voice is, once again, unnecessarily loud. It scratches my ears and gains the attention of the rest of the class. My face burns and I bite on my tongue, looking at her in nervousness. "Um…"

"'_Um'_ isn't an answer," she chides and points to the board. "Read the first three sentences."

Snickers, that is what I am starting to hear, and heat continues spreading on my features. "Choose four poems of interest from the literature work. Write them down. Return the lists to the front desk."

"Good. You can still read. And what is it that you have written down?"

"… nothing," is what manages to come out. The answer is pathetic and apparently humorous from the increase in giggles and whisperings. It has become certain. This teacher has something against me. Almost no one else has gotten as much of her ire on them as me.

However, today's dose of humiliation seems to come to an end, because she frowns and suddenly leans a bit closer. Mrs. Brantley is known to have a bit lower than average vision, but today there are no glasses on the bridge of her nose. So, her face comes almost uncomfortably close to my face and I unconsciously lean back against my chair. _Oh my god. Is something wrong with my face again? _

"Are you feeling alright?"

I do not take that question as something directed at my health, at first. The more I look at her frown, though, and squinting gaze, the more I have an urge to have a mirror in my hands. Almost an entire day, I have not been feeling that great, that is true, but… there is no way I can look just as bad as I am feeling, right?

"I suggest that you go visit the infirmary," the adult in the class says with finality and turns her attention to the clock just as the bell rings sharply. The rest of the students don't wait for her to dismiss them and start gathering up their stuff. Seeing this only makes Mrs. Brantley wave her hand dismissingly. "Remember that next time I want all of you to have your essays with you!"

The paper filled with my insignificant drawings is still sitting in front of me and I have an urge to ask if I should still finish the task. The small flowers in the corner don't seem too bad, too. However, I decide against it, knowing that this is my final class and prefer the idea of heading home. The latter is the priority and I scramble up, glancing up warily at the bulky woman who keeps an eye on the door. _Good – she is distracted. _

But just as I am at the door, Mrs. Brantley calls out lightly: "And I expect those with _lower_ markings to do their absolute _best_ this time around."

Of course, it is plainly obvious who she is directing those words to and I cringe inwardly, hands clenching my schoolbag. The ends of my fingers tingle and I frown, adjusting my hoodie and pushing sleeves further down till they reach the fingernails. It wasn't exactly warm inside the classroom, but this hallway's air only drops several degrees compared to that. Not only that, but I also have a sudden urge to crawl into the bathroom and maybe empty the meager scraps of bread from my stomach. Whether this terrible nausea is due to the fact I didn't eat lunch or the nervousness from public humiliation from the class, I sure hope yesterday's trip in the rain isn't the main reason. It would only make me feel even more stupid for acting the way I had. The physical discomfort putting strain onto my body is nearly enough to make me regret not taking Jasper's offer for a ride.

I shake my head, recalling the way my limbs were frozen popsicles. Even after a hot bath and cuddling with a blanket, the chill had settled into my bones. If all of that is considered, then maybe I truly appear sick… _not appear. I __**am**__ sick. _The thought causes a crease to appear on my forehead. The last time something like this has happened was years ago, so I silently also doubt the possibility.

_Oh, cut the crap. _The people are gathering up in one single hallway and like always it is hard to get through in the rush. _You're sick and you know it. _The voice inside my head is chiding, much like how Mrs. Brantley's. It echoes a few times in my head, which is muffled and where every bit of the blood is gathering into. The more I focus on that fact, the more bothered I become. Even if I am sick – which is quite certain now that even a teacher has commented – I would still have to make my own way back to my house. And once more, the weather isn't on my side.

The temperature had dropped more than enough last night. The water that had gathered up due to rain has frozen solid, making the ground slippery. The sun isn't here to melt it, so the air is just the same – icy, chilly. A perfect nightmare for someone who just yesterday was in danger of dying from hypothermia.

It is like those cold waterdrops are soaking me for the second time when I step out. Shivers shake my body and my feet freeze for a small second. The inside of the school smells like rubber and overly used perfume, but I would much rather be there right now, rather than out here. For once, the saying 'there is no place like home' comes to my mind together with a mental image of huddling in the corner of the couch.

And then suddenly, for some reason, I pause with walking, when a familiar dark hair catches my eye from the parking lot. It is the new girl.

_Talk with her. _

My gut clenches and I immediately push away that ridiculous thought. There is no way that I could ever do that – making acquaintances hasn't been my strongest feature. I do not understand it myself, but maybe because she acted so awkwardly that I found similarities between us from last time. That is the reason why a small part of me wants to go there and open my mouth.

What would I talk with her in the first place?

_Coward. _

Silently sighing under my breath, my head turns involuntarily back forward, and I continue moving, through the haze in my mind. The coat I am wearing is thick and makes my movements feel stiffer than normal. The thought of seeing that familiar house behind the trees is the only thing keeping me looking forward to what lies ahead of this tedious walk.

"Stone."

There is a sudden jolt going through every small vertebra in the spine. The shudder that follows next rattles them. There is no mistaking that voice the second time around. I am suddenly wishing that whatever I am coming down with could grand temporary deafness as well.

I curse that the rain from yesterday hadn't frozen over from the night chill like the ice covering most of the concrete ground. Still, I turn around, finding that keeping somewhat a blank face surprisingly easy. And the moment my eyes meet with the ones belonging to a boy with soft blond waves on his head a strange sense of calm washes over my tense body.

Contrary to what I expect, Jasper is the one who appears to be the most uncomfortable out of the two of us. There is obvious stiffness on his shoulders. Unlike me, though, he has the guts to keep eye contact. A lump forms in my throat from even a second-long glance.

This atmosphere reminds me of too much of our last interaction and the peculiar comfortableness wavers.

The awkward silence could be an opportunity for me to make a run for it.

"Alice wanted me to give this to you," he suddenly speaks up again, takes a dangerous step closer and holds out a book.

Everything slows down and comes to a halt. My mind works slowly and spins. I am looking like an idiot between the object and at the pale face before me, like not even aware of what is happening. _Alice? _The book has a simple red cover and is not thick, but rather thin. The sight of it brings out the exasperated side of me – I am tired and feel like laying down and he stopped me for this?

Without thinking or having the strength to process a thing, I reach out and take the book off his hands. "Thanks – tell her thanks, I mean."

Jasper gives a slight nod. "She is still not feeling well and can't come to school for a while."

… _Okay. Why is he telling me this? _While confused, I also feel a bit lightness blooming in my chest in a literal sense. At least now I know the reason for the pixie-like girl's absence. The emotion is short-lived, though, when a wave of nausea hits me from the gut. Outwardly, I cringe, inhaling deeply the chilly air, hoping it to clear my body out of the virus I might have caught.

Without really thinking, I look down at the ground and see a small, frozen-over puddle between us. On the surface, the ends of two dark forms barely touch. They appear muddled, blurry, barely anything close to human that it brings another nauseating wave throughout my body. Whatever form of calm is left fades and trickles down as cold sweat. Every small muscle in my gut clenches further when something almost rises from the base of my throat.

This is the worst place to throw up.

Not realizing just how long I have kept my eyes low, a pair of dark shoes step forward.

The ends of my eyebrows knit together – _no, calm down. _For the second time, I inhale deeply and struggle to shrug the sensation of sickness off. The next hardest part comes from trying to lift my eyes back up and not jump out of my skin in shock.

Jasper is a lot closer than one could have guessed from the location of his shoes.

"You don't look too well."

"Y-yeah. I might have… caught something from a classmate," I lie through my teeth, not wanting to recall how I shivered in the shower for more than half an hour.

If the conditions were better and I wasn't feeling like barfing, I would let out a snort. _You are one to talk. _I have not paid too much attention to his features, but with this proximity, small details are far more obvious than when avoiding looking straight at him. The most startling discovery being how the trademark dark circles under his eyes are not visible.

And then there are those golden eyes, the kind that one could mistake for hazel at first sight. Those are pretty much the only bright spots besides his hair which can be distinguished from the plain and white background of school outer walls. The color of his clothes is like that, so Jasper practically blends in with the scenery. Still… _those_ eyes.

They are unwavering, despite showing no signs of hostility. It is strange. For months, the image of stormy dark orbs has been edged into my memory, but those are the last signs of rage I have ever seen on Jasper's face. Now, only blankness or discomfort is obvious. Strangely, though, that fact does not make the burning stare less intense. It is almost like the golden-haired boy doesn't blink – or he doesn't know how – and keeps his line of direction unnaturally straight.

Being somewhat of a social outcast does not mean in any way that normal human functions during an exchange of words escapes from me. Jasper definitely doesn't either blink or make small and noticeable eye movements. This is disturbing. The situation is almost similar to a scenario where there is a person at public transport, sitting on an opposite seat and giving you the most obvious stare in the world.

_They __**were**__ definitely black back then, _a voice whispers in suspicion. Whether it is because of that strange fact or that the boy who I had just yesterday thrown a movie at is standing a few feet away, my hands turn clammy inside the long sleeves of my jacket.

Still, I am yet to feel fully uncomfortable from this silent staring contest… what really bothers me is how my gut is telling me to kneel over and throw up whatever it is inside my stomach. The blood is rushing to my head, as well, for some strange reason.

_Breathe in. _

_Breathe out. _

_In. And out. _

"Well," I choke on whatever burns the back of my throat, "I've got to go now."

I am not totally absentminded. I definitely must be mistaken with how the world seems to sway all of sudden. I _pray _to be mistaken. The strange book in my hands is at least still there, so this can't be that serious… _Right? _

"Stone, I can give you a ride."

"W-what? A ride? You?" The heavy lids on my face blink. For a second, his words go through my head and the buzzing in it intensifies. I am not even sure when it started. In the end, I shake my head. "No thanks... I can… make it on my own."

Déjà-vu – this is the second time he has asked that question from me and the second time that I have rejected. It is rather shocking. One would think that he wouldn't even want to think of it after getting shot down so rudely. Slight guilt does stock up into the already towering pile, but at the same time, this makes me feel a bit confident. Look at me rejecting a ride in a fancy car two times in a row. Does anyone else have the guts? I don't think so.

As soon as a smug smirk twitches my lips up, they fall down, crashing from another dizzy spell. There is the solid ground underneath my feet, but it turns into ice, the kind where you can easily slip and crack your head wide open. This is the point in life where anyone should realize not to stay stubborn until it is too late. Sweat must be prominently dripping down my forehead by now.

Before I can form a solid answer, a distant sound of screaming snaps our heads towards the lower parking lot – no, not screaming, more like screeching. The kind you could hear in movies. A car speeding ahead, unable to stop and then –

_Isabella. _

Like from a burst of an explosion, the breath is knocked out of my lungs at the sight of a large vehicle making its way towards a ridiculously plain truck. Then there is the girl who is about to be squeezed between the two. I do not own a car, nor really understand the speed limits, but I can tell unconsciously in a second that the sliding vehicle won't be slowing down or be able to stop. Rather, the entire thing seems to slow down and inch closer towards the frozen brunette. Just like in movies.

Blood rushes into my head – everything becomes blurred. Cold sweat fills the entire length of my back. People are screaming and the name 'Bella' yelled out more than once by different individuals. These sounds mix together with the blowing chilly wind in my ears. It's like listening to a messed-up radio in a closed-off car. The scene is almost like…

_A car. Rainy evening. Lights. The police. _

The nausea increases. Now, something is definitely rising up my throat.

"Isa…" I trail off, wanting to scream. However, the brunette's name comes half-way through my chapped mouth as a whisper.

The entire world is shaking, as whatever food I have had in my gut finally comes out. My barely aware brain mainly registers how badly the acid stings the back of my throat. The thought of embarrassment or shame does not even cross my mind. Everything merely _hurts. _From the tip of my toes to the top of my spinning head, the muscles and bones ache.

The pain spreads to my knees when they hit the solid ground with full force. Somehow, not standing anymore makes me feel a tad bit better.

I have never – and that means _never_ in the period that I have been breathing on this earth – once in my life fainted.

* * *

Car rides, bus rides – I have always liked them for some reason. There is just something about the humming of the engine that always manages to lull me into sleep or calms me down. Someone said that it is because there is nothing much to do in a car and that may as well be true for me. I do not have to do much else but look out of the window and feel a bit sleepy.

I was once curious and looked it up. Turns out, the explanation was just a simple one. The gentle movement of a car is like a parent rocking their child to sleep. If someone was tired, they would fall asleep in it easier. The most obvious reason in the world. But even if I didn't fall asleep or wasn't tired, I would still feel comfortable inside a vehicle.

So… why, even in this kind of situation –

"_The rate of the heartbeat is rising."_

"_We may have tachycardia in our hands."_

"_The temperature is one hundred and eight point two."_

"_Pupils dilated."_

"… _a seizure."_

I am completely calm, or at least I think I am. There is not much going through my head, even when the blaring of what sounds like sirens blasts in my ears. Even before that there is a strange dull noise of drumming and it jolts all the way from my chest.

Everything smells like rubber. Only a few kinds of places can smell like this – rubber factories and medical clinics and hospitals. The latter options seem more likely, but the former could be an option as well. Who could know? I can barely see what is going on anymore. Bright lights merely keep on stabbing me in the eyes. If I could, I would cover them, but my hands don't seem to be working.

Finally, it becomes worse. Chilly wind blows against my face – it feels strangely heated – and thousand small ants keep on crawling underneath and on my skin, their small feet made of needles which stab my flesh over and over again. The light is now so bright I might as well be next to a sun, glaring each other like hated enemies. I want to hide. Suddenly, I can comprehend just how afraid I am of what is happening. The worst part is that I can't make it stop.

"_A seventeen-year-old threw up, collapsed on school grounds and is having seizures together with a fever over one hundred and eight. The heart rate has kept on rising."_

"_Bring her here."_

"_The seizures have lasted more than…"_

If I was half-aware of what was truly going on, I would be crying. My body is both numb and aches at the same time – how is that possible? It is like the flesh has lost its sense and bones are starting to bend and break, if that could be the right kind of explanation. I am sure that I would be screaming my lungs out if that were that the case.

_Am I breathing? _

My arm is raised. It prickles and my facial muscles twitch. The world is burning and shaking.

_Someone…_

"_Prepare the IV."_

_Just make this stop. _

* * *

In Forks, it is normal to have cold temperatures at this time of year. Although, that does not apply to the feeling like you are being swallowed by a blanket of snow and ice prickling your skin. At the same time, you feel hot, like your blood is being boiled from the inside, if that is even possible. That is how I could describe how I am currently feeling.

The ends of both upper and lower eyelids feel like they have been glued together. It is a struggle to get them to open. When they finally do, what greets me is a peculiar sight of an unfamiliar ceiling staring right back at me. It is snow white – _I must be in the mountains or something. _That is the only sensible explanation. I wouldn't be feeling like laying on snow otherwise.

I should hurry back home.

I try lifting my upper body, but it won't budge. The feeling where one's body turns into heavy stone is the closest thing to describe this sensation. The next thing I notice is that something is on my face and a continuous pressure pushes the air against my nose – it is plainly uncomfortable. So many unfamiliar senses and I still can't move properly.

"Trix?"

"Is she awake?"

"Y-yes, I think so."

… _Who is that? _Is the first question that pops into my head, as soon as an unfamiliar face fills my vision. Trying to make out features is hard, my head just starts hurting. But eventually, I recognize the sight of dark hair, which is usually neatly combed laying on the shoulder as one bundle.

It is Alex's mother, looking down at me with… I can't make out the expression. _Why is she here? _I want to point out how strange it is to see her at my house, but again, my voice doesn't come out. _Wait… am I at home? Or was this place… _My eyes close. _Why is it so hot in here? Or maybe it is still cold…_ There is no way that it can be cold and hot at the same time.

"Ma'am – ma'am, I need you to step aside."

"Yes, of course."

"Miss Stone, can you hear me?"

Even if I could, I do not react. The scent of the hospital invades my nostrils even more and the smell of Alex's mother's perfume fades. I miss the latter but can't form words on my tongue. It is slack, merely staying as an unmovable worm in my mouth. Not to mention the sensation of cold snow bundles surrounding me snakes itself into my bones. Since when does it snow _indoors_? I want to get out, to see the familiar forest and smell the pine and spruce. I have homework to do, as well. Although, that isn't my first priority.

Someone touches my face. Their face is misshapen and blurry. I twitch, thinking that it might be the old man from the library who always sits in the corner. _What is he doing here? _Tiredly, I close my eyes, letting the hand linger on my forehead and then drawback. The feeling of the touch lingers, though. _Am I being given a facial? _I couldn't afford that with my meager allowance.

Weakly, I move my lips that stretch painfully, sting and crack. "…off."

"Miss Stone, what did you say?"

I do not like how I sound. My voice is faint, coarse and it takes a bit of energy to get it out. It is a strange sound. "G-get… it off…"

"Unfortunately, I can't do that," the voice continues and adjusts the same bothersome thing on my face that I want to be rid of. "The doctor has advised keeping CPAP on you."

"Trix, sweetheart," Alex's mother's voice is like clear water, "you have to keep it on, please understand. You had trouble breathing on your own."

I barely understand what she is saying. "Off."

"I am going to get the doctor. Her temperature hasn't gone down."

The noise of sharp heels stabbing the ground echo. Whoever that person was, they are gone now. I am strangely relieved from that.

The gears in my head turn around and around slowly when a familiar hand grasps my own. The touch feels firm, soft, but warm against my skin. It is a contrast to the freezing temperature surrounding me and I have a desire to draw myself closer.

"C-cold," I choke out, loathing the way my voice grades in my ears.

The hand squeezes mine. "I know, but it is for your own good. You have such a high fever… I was worried."

My head turns, the icy sensation of snow spreading to my cheek. "I want… to go… home."

"You can go soon," she continues saying with a soothing voice.

Again, I feel her touch shift and move to my face. She shifts the bangs on my forehead, and I can distinguish the sticky feeling of sweat binding them down against my skin. I am wondering if I had a bath at some point. That shouldn't be right either. This is not my room, nor do I recognize that awfully white ceiling. A few moments ago, I had been staring at the grey sky filled with clouds.

The older woman continues speaking through the steadily growing buzzing in my ears. "Alex will want to come and visit you later, once he is feeling better that is."

"… we promised to go… to Carver Café."

"You can, when the two of you are feeling better. I tried contacting your father, but he isn't answering the phone. I did leave a message, though."

My eyes open and close, like I can't decide between staying awake or falling asleep. I am not so sure I want to choose the former. Something in what the black-haired woman said sends an unpleasant wave down my digestion system. I do not think much about it, though. The coldness just keeps on eating me. And even her warm hand can do nothing to chase it away.

The ends of my eyelids glue themselves together again. I do not try opening them. _I just want to go home._

* * *

"_Please, just let me see her."_

"_Are you listening to yourself? Why must the two of you make things more complicated for us?"_

"_I just need to see her, once, a few moments. I need to make sure – "_

"_She looked half-dead the last time you saw her – it is not like seeing her is going to make it better."_

_"Calm down, both of you. She is in critical condition and needs her rest."  
_

"_No need to tell us that with that ragged sound coming from over there."_

"_How can you be so cruel?"_

"_Don't fight – this is a hospital. _

"_Gosh, it stinks in here. Let's go already."_

"_Can you at least tell me, when she is feeling better?"_

"… _I will."_

* * *

"_Her body temperature has lowered, but there are still difficulties in breathing."  
_

"_No signs of inner damage, fractures or masses in her respiratory system."_

"_She has no history of asthma or health problems."_

"_We are trying to contact her parents."_

"_The scans appear normal."_

* * *

"_Hey, Trix, if you can hear me, know that I stole that last Oreo cookie from your batch a month ago."_

"_Alex, I know you are worried about her, but you need your rest, as well. Visiting hours are going to be over soon and the nurse will – "_

"_So, if you want your revenge for that, you should get better soon."_

"…"

"_I will come back in the morning."_

* * *

_So noisy. _

I can hear it – the sound of my heartbeat.

It has been going on like this for a while now, even if I am not aware of what time it is. The room is nearly pitch black and covered in darkness, so it might be nighttime. I do not see any other reason for that, or maybe I am constantly keeping my eyes closed. Other than the beating organ and the humming of the machine – I am conscious enough to hear and recognize it – there are no noises made by other humans. The entire place seems like there is only me laying there. Completely immobilized.

The blood pumping muscle feels like it is close to jumping out of my chest. It has constantly been hitting against the front of my ribcage, like trying to get out and through a closed door.

They haven't taken off the strange thing on my face either. I think this is the time I am supposed to be asleep, but it has proven to be quite the challenge. At least, I do not feel like I am laying on a pile of ice and snow anymore. _This is a sauna. _I have no idea how I ended up in a spa, but I would already like to get out… until I forget what I was thinking a second ago.

_Hungry…_ My eyelids flutter open, taking in the sight of a blank wall and turning to the side. There is a window there, curtains barely concealing the light of the night sky. From between the cracks, I can see the round moon and stars – the clouds of dispersed. _I am thirsty. _

The temperature in the room feels like it is only rising higher and higher. My throat is just as chapped as my lips like a desert has replaced the mouth. Again, I am frustrated how I can't sit up, or even lift my head off the pillow. No muscle in my body rises or falls by will. The only thing I have as proof that I have not been completely paralyzed is the heartbeat. I am still pretty much alive.

So, what is wrong with me? This is the weakest I have ever felt…

_No. _

My eyes close, they sting, and a ragged breath scratches my lungs. The thing on my face only makes inhaling feel more unpleasant.

Slowly, gradually, eventually, I begin to realize something: this has happened before.

Once, years ago, I recall being in this same position. Just laying, and unable to do anything.

_I am scared. _

My eyes flutter open and close. The night has become darker. The fear of it devouring me with this fever makes me remember what a hopeless crybaby I still am. There has been little to nonexistent change from my child-self to this moment.

Back then, at least I was at home and not on some strange and cold bed. I can't sleep comfortably anywhere that isn't my house and my bed. This breathing device – or whatever the nurse called it – is only increasing the torture I have to endure. Every single time the machine puts pressured air through my nose and into my lungs, the entire length of my throat constricts and fights against it.

It is like my own body is preventing me from getting better, trying to kill me.

The door opens. The frequent sound of sliding has become more than familiar in my half-awake state… Or maybe I have been just dreaming about that? No, even now someone touches me, lifting my arm up and my eyelids start to struggle in opening up.

A second after I think of trying to see how my mouth works, a sharp pain stabs my arm in the middle what feels like the main artery.

_Son of a bitch _is what I would curse if I was able to.

Instead, I flinch slightly, unable to do anything as whatever is being injected into me gathers up underneath my skin. It is disturbing and feels like it lasts for minutes. My clogged throat has now an immovable seal on it, my chest constricts and cold sweat mixes with the sweat that has already gathered up all over my body.

When the needle draws back, a fresh tear slips past my closed eyelids and trails down to my cheek. It feels warm, but the trail it leaves soon turns freezing.

Someone brushes the salty droplet off. The sensation of cold never leaves, though, and harsh cough ripples out of my squeezing lungs. My fingers twitch, desperate to take off the respirator system from my face.

"It is alright," the person still holding my hand places it down slowly, like the sound of the noises coming out of a patient isn't alarming in any level.

My ears are pretty much ringing when the pressure pushing air into my lungs stops and the object of my torment is taken off. I inhale freely, though, still with a bit difficulty.

"Breathe."

_Easier said than done_. Tears do not stop coming out of my eyes, I feel terrible.

* * *

You know the feeling when someone is staring at you like a three-headed monster that appeared from thin air or a mysterious timebomb that could explode at any minute? Well, that is precisely how I feel I am being treated.

"Do you still have difficulties in breathing?"

"No," I answer and let the nurse raise the bed so that I am slightly sitting upwards. My eyes are, however, more curiously drawn to the thin tube attached to my arm. I find it disturbing – I have never been hospitalized like this before.

"Nausea? Headache?" The doctor keeps on listing the symptoms and I merely shake my head at every turn. Finally, he takes out a stethoscope and asks me to sit sideways so he can listen to my lungs.

_This is ridiculous, _I think and let the nurse, again, open the back of my hospital gown slightly to let the cold, round scope touch my bare skin. My muscles stiffen, but otherwise, I do not react. When there is an instruction to take a deep breath, I do as I am told. This process is repeated and the cold object travels across my back, leaving a trace of the hairs standing up and goosebumps spreading all over my body.

This room is surprisingly chilly.

"Hm," the doctor lets out and draws back. "Your lungs sound fine."

I almost want to frown, because that is the most obvious thing in the world to me. If I had any say in medical opinions, I would point the respirator system that was attached to my face as the main reason for such things. Honestly, I feel like I can breathe more properly without it.

"And you have said you have not had any health complications before this?"

"Yes. I think I got a high fever because I was out in the rain the other day and nearly froze to death," I answer and see the nurse give me a look of pity from the corner of my eye.

The doctor nods, a bit of clarification coming to his face. "Hmm, I see. That might explain something. However, there have been no signs of damage to your lungs, which we find rather odd – "

_You want me to go through with more tests. _

"We would like to go through with more tests."

"Can't I just go home?" I ask bluntly, hoping that desperation shows on my face.

He shakes his head. "I am afraid we would need parental permission and signature for that since you are still minor."

My spine stiffens – parental permission. That is just perfect, this is exactly what I need, I think sarcastically. The last person on earth that I would like to see right now is the one who can actually set me free from this place. I shudder at the thought of just ripping this random tube out of my arm and marching out of the front door.

"Unfortunately, we haven't managed to contact your guardians – oh, you live with your father, correct?" He rearranges his words, once he glances down at my file.

Silently, I purse my dry lips and ignore the stinging it causes. "Yes."

"Then, perhaps you would like to contact him. Until we get his approval, we need to keep you under surveillance just in case."

An urge to just rip off my hair comes over. Now that I am in more control of my limbs, my arms naturally just flinch from the sheer thought. _There is nothing wrong with me damnit! _I do not feel ill anymore, I don't like this place and I just want to go home.

In a second, my eyes shoot down at the school bag that was brought with me. I reach out for my phone. That old man should better be in Washingon or else I will be stuck here forever.

* * *

_To Dad:_

_I am at the hospital. They won't let me out without your consent and signature. Come back quickly._

_From Beatrix._

* * *

"Funny. It is usually you who comes and visits me in here."

"You are practically coming to visit me in your own house, doesn't really seem like such a weird thing to me."

"Point taken."

"The food here is much better than I heard."

"I will be sure to pass the word to cafeteria ladies, but you should taste the food on Monday."

"What's on Monday?"

"There will be carrots on your plate."

My face makes a grimace. "Ugh. Say no more."

Alex relaxes against the chair that has been dragged next to the bed. "You sure you are feeling alright?"

"Stop sounding like your mom," I order with a wrinkle between my brows. "It is bad enough that she and the nurses are looking at me like I am going to fall into pieces at any minute… I do not look _that _bad, right?"

Alex's face turns towards me in all seriousness and we stare at one another. While he is assessing me, I do the same for him and take into account that he has recently had surgery. He speaks the usual way – playful bantering. But the huge difference is how hoarse his voice sounds and that dark, even line slicing through his neck horizontally. Stitches line up the wound, like a half-finished collar.

It is a bit disturbing. To see something that has been sewn into the skin is almost surreal and a cold sensation spreads in my gut. I want to keep on looking and avert my gaze at the same time.

"Does it hurt?"

His lips turn thin, hands hesitantly reaching out for the stitches, but not touching. "No, not really. I just don't stretch it and it is fine. What actually happened to you is more interesting."

"Apparently, when you walk through the rain for a little over an hour you get a high fever, difficulties in breathing following," I explain smoothly, recalling what the doctor told me. "They can't find that anything is "damaged", so to speak, and want to keep me here in case I might have something."

Alex nods, but then gets a bit absentminded look and seems to be in his own world for a while. While he is not looking, I trail my eyes down to see an absence of the heavy gas chamber he usually carried around the place. Then, my gaze looks up at the tuffs of thin hair on top of his head. _Is he still on chemo?_

"Did you hear what happened to that Swan girl?" He asks just as I am reaching out for a drink.

My hand freezes just a mere inch away from glass and m thoughts move on slowly. "Um, the nurse did say that she went home yesterday."

As hard as it is to believe, I see no reason why those fretting nurses would lie to me. Still, the memories of the last things I saw on school grounds before collapsing replay themselves in my mind. It is a slow and short film. Me standing on higher ground from the parking lot, the golden-haired boy's voice barely getting through the mess of images, and Bella standing in front of a retro and old red truck. Then, the noise of tires screeching, a large vehicle sliding against the slippery ground like it is surfing on waves… screams that followed… _She should have been hit. _And the last time I checked with my barely five-grade level in physics that kind of mass coming at her with the speed, should have ensured that the injuries were worse.

I am both jealous and confused. Bella gets to leave from this place before me, the weirdo that she barely held five-minute conversation with, just less than twenty-four hours after arriving. I merely fainted but needed a respiration machine to breathe and be cooled down by icepacks like a refrigerated chicken. This doesn't make any sense. What kind of standards does this hospital have for patients that have gone through critical situations?

It is as if Alex has gained mindreading abilities when he speaks up next. "That is right. They said that she survived the accident without a scratch."

The rim of the glass is on my lips, but I do not choke on the water. My mouth clamps shut, instead, and I look at him strangely. "Without a scratch? Are you sure?"

"Yes. Even mom told me so."

A pause and I shake my head. "No, that can't be right."

He frowns. "Why?"

"I saw what happened. There was a car the size of a mini truck going towards her. She was about to be crushed between the two vehicles!"

"That is also what I heard, but apparently there was enough room between her and the two cars so that she wouldn't get _crushed_, or something. I didn't really ask for details, but only the driver got hurt."

Again, I shake my head. "No, that was – I saw what I saw, Lex. The car wasn't going to stop, and it went too fast and…" I trail off, completely lost to how I could make my point.

There was a chance for her to get broken limbs, a bone or two would be shattered, or at least bleeding. But to hear that she survived completely unscathed throws me off a loop. The frown on my face is now so deep it almost hurts. _Does she have the luck of a devil or something? _It is one of the favorite phrases that one nun back in my old hometown used on every little coincidental event. Like Forks, it was a relatively small place, so every small thing was huge news on our scale.

Here I thought I would have heard every ridiculous and strange accident story being exasperated, but apparently not. I am now like those old people that always sat together in the church exchanging gossips on things disappearing and strange cars going through the town. I may now be going through similar emotions that they went, or perhaps the high fever has caused me to go to an early senile stage? No, no, this can't be happening to me.

I try recalling the horrible scenario at school, but the only difference this time around is that I remember faintly throwing up before collapsing.

I end up running a tired hand through my sticky hair. _Great. Everything is going so well for me. _

"From what I understand, you had a fever when this took place," Alex says and comfortably picks up a grape from a bowl his mother left. "Maybe you were just delirious?"

"I was aware of my surroundings, thank you very much," I snark back, but then mellow down when his words sink deep. "But… maybe you are right."

The tingling in the back of my skull doesn't fade, though. In fact, it makes me look down at my legs covered by a white sheet. Underneath that are two knees patched up and hiding the view of small wounds from meeting the concrete. It isn't my biggest concern, but… it just keeps on reminding me of what happened. _Jasper was there. _He was there, he probably saw what I did, too. _Or I don't remember it right. _

But many must have thought that Isabella Swan was about to get turned into a human pancake. They had also been terrified if the screams are enough to prove that. All in all, she was very lucky. Apparently, I am very lucky, too. A shiver goes down my spine when the doctor's haunting voice echoes in my ears hollowly. _Almost one hundred and nine fever, seizures, difficulties in breathing, heartbeat rising with high blood pressure. _Luckily, I have not listed all of those to Alex. I already feel like there is a cold snake wrapped around my neck.

I feel like I almost died.

Suddenly, a small 'ting' sound fills the room and startles my attention down to my phone on top of a small desk. I reach out, open the device and then focus on the new message I got.

"It's my dad," I answer to Alex's obviously inquisitive stare. "He says he will be here soon."

"Oh," the boy sounds surprised and he looks at the phone curiously. "Didn't think he would. You always say he is out of town and busy."

"Yeah, he is," I nod a bit after silence and close the phone. "It's lucky that he answered this quickly, though. He was probably at home."

"Isn't that good? He is coming to see you."

"Only because I texted him to come and get me out of here," I say without missing the beat.

The brunette next to me falters, my words closing his mouth. He has met the infamous Mr. Stone a few times in a row when he was still able to come to my house. Alex understands, since getting the first impression on the man he has understood that he is not exactly a hands-on-parent.

"Are you sure you should be leaving, though? If doctors say you might get worse, then you should listen to their advice."

I shake my head and lay down, the pillow nearly swallowing my head whole. "I want to go home. I even feel better. I hate sleeping in places that aren't my bed. The night was horrible."

"Maybe because you had a fever and a bunch of wires attached to you?"

My answer is chucking the pillow at him. Our chuckles and snorts resonate around the white room.

* * *

He really has arrived. Only three to four hours have gone since I texted him and he is standing near the reception desk. Or rather hiding in the dark with his usual hat and dark jacket on. He may not be doing it on purpose, but those colors blend him against the shadows and make him stand out at the same time from the white wall.

His head tilts up before I am even a few feet away. He has spotted me, that much is obvious. I walk without a pause, one hand holding my backpack and adjusting my jacket slightly. It is getting hot in it, but I do not take it off. The weight of my keys and wallet in the pockets is heavy.

Unlike what I think he will do – like starting to walk before I even reach to him – my father stands where he is, eyes looking at me underneath the shade of his hat. The bright light of the hospital makes the shadow line appear even darker than back at home. The wrists of pale hands are like chalk in this environment, too.

I stop almost right next to him, meeting his eyes blankly. People walk past us – doctors, patients, nurses – but they do not pay any attention to the strange pair.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks all of sudden, breaking his mute state.

For a second, I do not understand his question. There is a perfectly good reason for that, though – I do not remember the last time he has asked me about something like this. His tone doesn't sound worried like any other parents should. I have spent a night in the hospital and didn't come home, yet he still acts like this. But there is a small, very tiny, maybe a small spark that could be snuffed out in an instant, sound of interest in his tone.

When I finally manage to open my mouth, it comes out as a line of stammers. "Y-yes, I-I am good."

His eyes actually _look_ at me up and down, as if assessing the validity of my answer. Without a word, he merely nods and then starts walking towards the door. The second his back is turned, I can feel how my shoulders actually slump down. I didn't even realize how tense they had been. A small puff of air escapes from my lips as if I have been holding it back.

The world is going to end. The sky is going to fall on top of all of us. The dead are rising from their coffins.

He actually _waited_ for me to come to him, instead of walking away, and _asked_ if I am 'feeling better'.

The absurdity of the situation settles in with my silent bewilderment and I hurriedly start following after him. I can feel it – the warm bubble that has been laying dead in my gut for so long is slowly starting to rise up again. The ends of my lips twitch and my cheeks tingle. Despite how earlier my pockets weighted like small rocks, now they are as light as feathers.

_He… actually cares, right? _The question remains in my head the entire time I watch his back. The ghastly jacket he always wears loses its light swallowing color and suddenly doesn't appear to be filled with the usual wrinkles. Even the hat he wears is no longer old and worn-out – it is like a crown on top of his light-haired head…

I almost shake my head. Something is definitely wrong with my father. It is as plain as a day. He shouldn't even give a sign that he cares, or perhaps – lord above – was worried about me. Still, those suspicions do nothing, when I cover my mouth to hide a small grin from the world. I have not brushed my teeth.

I am acting like a small child again.

"Beatrix?" The melodic voice sounds confused when it pronounces my name, and my feet actually glue themselves on the ground.

Doctor Cullen and I lock our eyes. His are slightly widened but return to neutrality in a second. His pristine features light up into a smile and the back of my throat clogs. This is our third time meeting and no doubt it won't be less awkward than the last two were.

"Hello, Dr. Cullen," I say with a faint, uncomfortable smile.

He walks closer, hands out of his stark white doctor's coat. "You are leaving?"

"Yeah, I am free to go," I nod and wet my dry lower lip. Gosh, I need lip balm and quick.

From my answer, he does a small head tilt and a faint frown appears on his otherwise smooth face. "You have been released? From my understanding, you were meant to be kept under observation."

I am playing with the strap of my school bag now. "My dad signed me out. I am fine, though."

The older man's expression doesn't change. "You certainly weren't fine yesterday," he states, not unkindly, though. "Where is your father?"

"Oh, he is," I turn to gesture at the said man, but instead stare at the glass doors of the hospital. A man walks by, but it is not him. "He… he went out."

Disappointment feels like a rock has been plunged down your esophagus and into your stomach. I do not dare look up at Mr. Cullen when I turn my head back. Both cold realization that everything is still normal and red shame from parent's behavior fill my face at the same time.

"Do you feel alright?" The blonde man asks, instead of enquiring further about the mystery man who has left his child in the lobby.

I give a nod. "I felt better when I woke up. The nurses said my fever was fully gone."

"You are certain?" He asks again and after receiving the same answer continues. "No shortness of breath?"

"No."

"Your father is aware of what your condition was at your arrival?"

"Yes," I answer without hesitation. _Or I hope so. _That came out too quickly. It is suddenly too hot in my jacket, again.

Mr. Cullen must notice that my shoulders stiffen because his look changes into an unreadable one. "You should from now on to avoid walking in the rain. Have a friend drive you home."

_Actually, your son offered. _The thought of it makes me even more uncomfortable, even more so than the fact that the man before me is aware of what is suspected to be the main cause of my fever. The small, almost teasing smile on his lips tells me much. I blush, still not meeting his golden-brown eyes.

"I will," I say, even when not having any friends at that school is a fact. "Bye, and thank you."

"Stay well, Beatrix. Don't hesitate to come, if you feel unwell again."

* * *

The car stops at red headlights and the silence grows more than stuffy. The seats smell like they always have – clean and deodorized. I sit at the back, watching the blank expression on dad's face from the mirror. It has certainly been a while since I have last sat here with him driving. I don't have the luxury to get comfortable, though.

Somehow, I miss the stench of the hospital and Alex's company. Half of me wishes that I hadn't asked him to come. The entire house will be dead silent, like always. At least while laying on that bright white and uncomfortable bed, I heard noises and had someone to talk to.

"Do you know what happened to me?" I ask, voice almost too faint to hear through a horn blow of a nearby truck.

"You fainted," he actually answers and presses on gas, when the headlights turn green. The car moves and his hands grip the steering wheel.

There it is – one statement that bitters my mood and makes me grip the fabric of my jeans tightly. "I also apparently had over one hundred and eight fever. They said when they brought me in, I was having a seizure and my blood pressure was dangerously high. I had to use a respirator machine to _breathe_."

He doesn't react, just steers the wheel so the car turns right and goes down the road. The small mirror hanging from the ceiling of the grey vehicle doesn't show any change in his expression. He doesn't even glance back.

I slump against the seat, looking back down at my knees. The jeans are dirty and have small holes where my wounds are under the plasters. They sting a bit every time I bend or move my legs. The physical sensation makes my tongue taste bitter, strangely enough. I frown and play with the ends of my hair. I am a mess and feel tired from the smooth twists and turns the car makes.

"Can you turn on the heat?" I finally ask, voice neutral and drained. I cross my arms, leaning against the door to look at the grey scenery. "It is cold in here."

A few seconds after, warm air fills the confining space, but it will take a few minutes before I stop shivering. The desire for my bed is back and I wish the drive is over quickly. I close my eyes, finding more comfort from the cold window than the bed I left in the hospital. As expected, there is no conversation flowing and the only speaking occurring is an argument happening between drivers of two cars who have collided and stand out at the side of the road. The noise of sirens soon follows. Even without looking, I can already see an officer stepping out to resolve the argument… at least that is what I think is happening outside.

That may as well be what I wish for us to have – an argument. Just like many other parents and their children. They bicker about schoolwork, how they can't take care of themselves and scold the child when they are not home on time. Since when was the last time that I was even scolded by anyone besides my teachers? As strange as it sounds, when you don't have the basic normality in your life, you crave it. I want _both_ of us to get mad. It is always just me who raises her voice.

At the same time, I want to ask many other questions. Where he was, or how his work went, has he been abroad lately… those are things that I should know about him, right?

"Dad," I say and don't need a sign to know he is listening. "Alex's mom tried contacting you. Did you receive her messages?"

We stop again, the car giving a small jerk from the halt. From the rearview mirror, his eyes are barely visible and the strands of his short hair peeking from underneath the hat are almost like needles.

"I did," he answers calmly. The light is still red.

There is a lump in the back of my throat. "Did she tell you I was at the hospital?"

"Yes."

"She said you didn't answer back."

He doesn't say anything to that and the coldness in my gut spreads to my chest. Still, I do not say anything back, or ask questions, or even yell. I feel nothing, only numbness and look stiffly out of the window again. This is how I deal with his silence, pretend that he doesn't exist. It is rather easy, considering I can never tell if anyone else besides me is in the house.

I exhale tiredly, shifting to get more comfortable and ignore the prickling sensation of my emotions. Something actually prickles me – or rather aches – when I move my arm, though. The same arm that now has two needle marks impaled to it.

* * *

"What is this?"

That is the first question I ask when we reach home. There is puzzlement in my voice, and it is as clear as a day from my face that I am flabbergasted. Still, that expression melts, when I inspect a small box on the kitchen table, which I am sure that I did not leave there, and dad doesn't ever even touch or move things in the culinary space.

The box is made out of wood and when I open it a familiar bitter, but sweet scent hits my nose. Small, dried tea leaves rest at the bottom, filling the box like a treasure of gold.

I look over my shoulder at dad who walks past the kitchen without much of a word, as usual. However, he does stop, when a small noise escapes from my throat. I try forming words on my tongue, but it is suddenly very difficult.

"This is," I lift the box and look back up, "mom's tea?"

He merely gives a subtle nod, before retreating into the hallway and the sound of his room's door closing and opening reaches my ears. I do not stop him, though. Somewhere in the corner of my mind, I am thinking that he doesn't need to hear anything from me. After all, the softness in my hoarse voice must have told him enough.

I return my eyes back to the box in my hands and inhale deeply. It is the smell of dried and crushed strawberry leaves with a somewhat faint bitter scent underneath. The same scent that I have grown used to over the years and perhaps the only form of tea that has remained my favorite to this day. _Strange, I ran out of stock a few days ago._ The fact makes me wonder if the silent man currently hiding in his room noticed it and went to get me some more.

Much like in the hospital that same strange and giddy warmth spreads in my chest until a small smile is on my face. I try to stifle it. They don't sell this kind of tea at any store I have been to. There is only one family recipe for it, and it requires freshly gathered strawberry leaves, which don't suit the current weather. This is why I thought I would need to wait until summer.

Finally, I can't just stand still and lower the box. When it is closed, I almost miss the scent but end up walking in front of a thick wooden door and knocking on it softly a few times.

A few seconds later – without even hearing anyone approaching – the handle twists slowly and dad peeks out. Seeing me standing there with my hands crossed stiffly, but with a healthy flush on my face, he fully opens the door.

"Thanks," I blurt out, lifting my eyes to meet his. "Thank you for the tea, dad."

When I was small, the first thing I thought of dad's eyes is that they were two endless blackholes. They were always either framed by his hair or hat, the heavy shadow of the house or sheer emptiness of what I thought were his emotions. I also remember how I was always slightly scared of them. They are so dark and foreign, nothing like the warm brown color of my mother's eyes.

But at this very moment, at least in my head, there seems to be a small flicker of light in his gaze.

I smile up at him. It is stiff and awkward, but I hope it to be sincere. I rarely do this with him present, after all.

Seeing a small shift in his expression is more than enough for me to turn away and go back to the kitchen. A few seconds later his door closes again, and my smile brightens.

I don't regret coming home from the hospital anymore.

* * *

"_The patient was in a critical condition."_

"_We explained this to the guardian – "_

"_Including how she could have suffered severe damages to her body that we have not detected yet?"_

"_The patient made a fast recovery without any of those in sight or complications – I made my own professional judgment to keep her under observation, but the father was adamant in his own decision."_

"_Did you request that she would be brought to daily checkups?"_

"_Of course," _the doctor answered with an offended tone._ "Although, I am not too sure if her father will go through with that. He didn't seem to be too shaken by the explanations of his daughter's symptoms. Rather, he appeared to be indifferent."_

The conversation with his colleague goes over and over inside his head. The sight of the girl who was brought a day before into the hospital with her vitals crashing doesn't leave easily from his mind either. He is certain that everyone else besides him thought she wouldn't make it if the smallest of effort was made in treatment. With how slowly the background information on her was found, he had feared they might give her something that would only make things worse.

The girl had looked fine, even with the slight water burn on her face the first time they met. When she came to visit her friend, Alexander, in the hospital, there hadn't been any warning signs on her health. It was astounding when he saw her being pushed in a medical bed to the building.

"Something the matter?"

He doesn't need to turn to see Esme standing only a foot away from his chair. Carlisle keeps on looking down at the files in his hand, not telling her to leave or stay.

"Did you hear about what happened in the school?"

"Is this about the Swan girl?" She asks softly and looks over his shoulder. Seeing the name and date, however, makes her fall silent for a few seconds. "Beatrix Stone. Alice has mentioned her, hasn't she?"

"Alice and Rosalie had an argument in the hospital yesterday – it was about her."

At that, Esme allows a frown to appear between her brows. "Didn't Rosalie and Edward also argue about someone?"

"It was Isabella Swan. She didn't need to be hospitalized, though."

"Is the other girl well, then?" Esme asks curiously, if not with a hint of worry. New travel fast in a small town. Everyone pretty much only knows that someone collapsed and other details are just baseless rumors of surgeries and broken bones.

"She was discharged today."

"You don't sound too happy about it."

"Her father signed an AMA and they went home. It was our advice to keep her in the hospital a bit longer for several reasons."

The caramel-colored strands brush against his shoulders when she places her hands on them and leans closer. She whispers, her sweet and playful breath brushing against the side of his face. "They are fighting again."

A small, subtle upturn of his lips causes her grin to widen. "Yes, I can hear them."

By 'them' he means his 'children', who are even now having a heated argument downstairs. They don't need an excellent hearing when the group isn't even trying to conceal their voices. Three of the five are the ones raising their opinions the most, though.

Two pairs of golden eyes meet. "Shall we go and take a look?"

"Yes, we should. They might start destroying the house otherwise."

"Yeah, might be too late," a playful voice quips from the door and Emmet gives the two a smirk. He leans against the doorframe comfortably, as if nothing is going wrong downstairs. "Rosalie has thrown a chair out of the door."

The three are in a second standing next to the living room. They note that one of the chairs – as per to Emmet's words – is missing from its place next to the couch. On the couch, Alice is sitting next to Jasper, who is holding her hand in a gentle grip. The strangest part of this scene is that the pixie-like girl appears upset and has a frown on her lips. It melts gradually with her 'sibling's' soothing, but that is not enough to lift the tense atmosphere.

Everything has fallen silent, as soon as Carlisle and Esme stepped into the room. The argument has stopped, but not the icy air left behind. The door hangs open, letting in the cold wind that none of them can feel or be bothered with. The bulky and dark-haired man does, however, close it and goes to stand near the golden-haired girl who has her back turned to all of them.

Rosalie is upset. If she had the need to truly breathe, her shoulders would be rising and falling heavily. But because that is not the case, she is standing extremely still, which is worrisome. When the silence continues, though, she finally turns.

Her entire face is controlled, showing nothing, but her eyes that were golden this afternoon have turned pitch black. Bruises frame the underline of her perfectly white skin, showing to what extent she is feeling so much anger that it can't even be formed on her face. In many simple words, she is going to be boiling with pure rage soon; she is pissed.

"Don't you _dare_ bring us down with you."

Her words are directed at Alice who doesn't raise her head.

"She and Edward are placing us in danger," Rosalie continues, looking at her adoptive 'parents'. "The Swan girl is already suspecting Edward after that little _stunt_ he pulled. Now, these two," she pits and looks at the pair on the couch, "have been playing buddy-buddy with that other girl who threw up in the schoolyard."

"Beatrix," Alice says, opening her mouth finally and looking up with a stiff expression. "Her name is Beatrix Stone."

The blonde huffs and crosses her arms. "I could care less what she is called. How could you go flaunting this in front of our noses?"

"I am not flaunting," the shorter girl defends and stands up straight, Jasper following her silently. "Trixie is my friend."

"Oh, _Trixie _is your friend alright," Rosalie mocks sarcastically. "To the point that she will accept what you and all of us are."

"Girls," Esme tries to gain their attention carefully, but the two barely hear her soft voice.

"I have seen it; she will."

"Then tell me what you saw. Did you see her running in the fields with us, skin glowing under the sun?" Rosalie starts taking steps towards her 'sister' who doesn't back down. When they are only a few inches away, the blonde girl hisses dangerously. "Or did you see her corpse on the ground with throat wide open?"

Everyone tenses again, especially Jasper and Alice. The former takes a step closer, touching the shorter girl's hand in a calming manner, his own expression crumbling and dark color replacing the golden irises. His jaw clenches, together with the two girls' as they glare hatefully at each other. Both are obviously ready to pounce on one another.

"Rosalie!" Carlisle's voice rises in an unfamiliar manner, cutting the air. His voice softens a second later, seeing that everything has halted. "That is enough. Go get the chair you threw out and return to your room."

They do calm down. They bottle up their emotions and all four 'children' of the house relax their stiff shoulders. If the blonde vampire has the need to yell like that, it is a sign that the line has been crossed. Still, it does not escape anyone's notice how perfectly trimmed nails dig into the skin of the palms when the blonde girl turns around and walks towards the door.

Everyone watches her go, heels clicking faintly on the floor. She is doing that one purpose, creating noise. Her expression remains stormy, but it is not clear whether she will decide to say something else or leave peacefully. She is like a mountain cat ready to turn around and claw someone from one wrong move.

Finally, they get their answer. The door opens and closes harshly, the wide glass walls trembling from the force, but not shattering. Emmet follows his wife, but in a more mellow manner – he walks to the door, opens it casually, closes it and then vanishes. After he is also gone, there are only four vampires left in the silent living room.

Carlisle watches the spot where the two others went before turning back to the other pair. "Alice."

"Trixie is my friend," she insists and looks up. "I know she will – "

"It is a _possibility_," he cuts her off. His voice is not judging or reprimanding, just gentle and calming. "I agree that it was reckless of you to visit her without talking it through with the rest of us. That is why Rosalie is so upset."

Her eyes drop, followed by Jasper's. He is feeling guilty as well, for knowing that she was up to something and not telling his family anything. The oldest vampire watches them, truly seeing two children being scolded. With Esme silently by his side, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, he sighs and looks down at her.

They were all rather shocked last week when they heard where Alice had gone to. So many risks and possibilities of being found out and letting that one human girl have an inkling of their true nature. When Carlisle received that phone call where she told him that Beatrix was injured, he couldn't have felt more dread than was possible.

"Jasper," he addresses the golden-haired boy who raises his eyes to him. "Are you fine with this?"

As soon as the question is asked, Alice looks up at the vampire next to her with an expecting look. She is also curious, and her expression slightly falls, when Jasper's remains unchanged and… a bit guilty.

"Not entirely," he finally lets out but does not remove his hand from Alice's. It must be painful for him to look at the betrayed expression on her face. "I agree that what you did was foolish – you should have never gone to her house. You should have kept activities outside of school at a minimum."

"She is no danger to us, even you can see it," she says and turns to look up at him, pleadingly. "You can talk to her, you can be near her longer than with any other human, even without me."

"What?" Carlisle let's out and his wife covers her mouth in shock. "Jasper, is this true?"

His jaw clenches, when he looks at his 'parents'. "I admit to having a few conversations with her."

"Oh, don't start," the girl sighs and also looks at them. "Please, trust me. We will be fine."


	7. Chapter 6: Recovery

**Marmite-1: Thank you for your support! Here is the new chapter almost three months later… yeah, sorry.**

**xSiriuslyPadfoot: Glad to know you enjoyed the last chapter. No, this story is not on hiatus – I'm just a slow writer. And yes, you will have to wait and see what the truth behind Trixie's father is. :)**

**DominoDuh: Hopefully this story has been keeping you on the edge of your seat, as you put it, to this point. Sorry for the long wait again and enjoy this new chapter!  
**

**keikei313: Carlisle was basically going through the hospital report on her health, but… you never know. As for what is wrong with Beatrix, she could have just suffered from a basic fever due to staying out in the rain for too long and weakening her immune system… or it was something else, who knows. Better continue reading, if you want to know!**

**chellekathrynnn: I don't honestly think I need to give them much emotion when at certain points they are just having a basic conversation. Maybe that's why they sound like robots? I have never really thought they might, so your comment surprised me a bit. **

**Guest: Aw! Thank you! Have fun reading this new chapter, if you are still following it!**

* * *

_Every inch of me is trembling  
But not from the cold  
Something is familiar  
Like a dream, I can reach but not quite hold  
I can sense you there_

_-By Evan Rachel Wood, Indina Menzel (Show yourself)_

* * *

_Chapter 6: _

_Recovery_

* * *

_Everything is bright and white. You either turn left or right, every hallway in the hospital appears the same. All you can do is follow the red line beneath your feet as it trails along with the place, leading you who knows where.  
_

_I follow the red line. _

_It leads me up and down many stairs. Through rooms filled with the odor of chemicals and rubber. Every room has bright lights that stab the eyes and strip one bare of their skin quite literally. People lay on operation tables with their organs pulled aside, eyes staring up at the nonexistent ceiling and to the sky. They do not move and are mostly left alone. _

_Nurses and doctors are just white shadows passing by. They don't disturb me, much like I don't disturb them. We walk past and through each other. It is like we can't see the other one approaching, but it could be just me. My eyes only focus on the line on the ground. _

_It continues turning and twisting on the ground, the curves it does become more violent the further it continues. Almost like a blood-red snake that slithers its way in a violent frenzy. Eventually, others join it – thin red lines drop down from motionless operation tables and crawl in front of me. I watch as they blend and color the once white floor into bright crimson. _

_Finally, the insane red wave leads me to a halt and into a room with a single table in the middle. Like any other one I have seen, it has someone laying on it. As the pure red spreads across the entire length of the room and seeps up to the walls, the stark white cloth covering the body pops up like a candle in the darkness. The sideway silhouette of the body is a white landscape of a winter forest covering mountains. _

_Slowly, my feet start moving again. I ignore how there are a splattering sound and the way something like water surface starts rising up against my legs. The closer I get to the table, the higher it goes until I feel liquid touching my fingers. _

_I stop a foot away from the table and look down. _

_When my arms rise, they drag red water with them. It has stained me and drips down between fingers. _

_The white cloth tears, revealing the mirror image of myself laying lifelessly on the table. _

_The red walls melt away, as color starts draining from my own face. They pull back like curtains, revealing an endless shroud of a dark forest. It swallows me, drowning me. I can't escape from the roots that impale my feet…_

* * *

I think I am still in a dream, at first, when my eyelids open and blink and there is light.

I am startled and immediately inhale sharply, fearing the worst. However, after feeling the tiredness in both the body and mind, I realize that the weak morning dawn has assaulted the room by going through a glass window and poorly closed curtains.

I am laying on the bed with the clothes I wore yesterday. And even after realizing this and the way my shirt has wrapped uncomfortably around the torso, I continue staying on the bed. My mind goes over whatever shards of memories cross its path.

The reason for the bizarre dream becomes clear rather quickly – I was at a goddamn hospital just yesterday and it has come after me through dreams. If I did not feel so groggy, I would shudder at the memories of those hours between the white concrete walls. As it is, I have to settle for merely going through the sceneries of the nightmare, like I still cannot believe what I saw. _It is settled – no hospital visits for me for decades. _

I stayed up pretty late last night and the reason becomes clear when I turn around and something falls down from the edge of the bed. I do not have to even look to know that it is the book of Wilfred Owen's poems. This very book made me think both gory wars from way back and my literature teacher who is secretly probably a vampire sucking out students' souls. After thinking for a while, the latter is definitely more likely.

_School, _even the word sounds bad in my head. And when I glance at the small clock on my table it becomes even worse. It is not even half-past five in the morning and I close my dry eyes tiredly. _You have got to be kidding me. _

The struggle between the desire to stay in bed and go up and fix a very early breakfast ends with me sitting up and glaring weakly at the window. It is not bright outside, but it is not completely dark either. The fact that I woke up to it is proof enough. As if mocking me, the wind blows outside and the trees wave and sway in it, almost like waving at me through that small crack. Whatever was going through my head last evening, it definitely made me unable to close my window properly and now I am paying the price.

More sour and bitter than the medicine I was fed before, I stand up, swaying like an unstable tree outside and march to the curtains with a frown on my face. Walking and facing even the little bits of light is complete torture.

The sun really has not come up yet, I think when I am standing right next to the glass. There are some lighter lines on the horizon and between the treetops, but that is where it ends. There are clouds in the night sky, but those are dispersing slightly and show a few twinkling lights.

I watch the nature, how beautiful it is even in this small town, stiff shoulders relaxing…

They jump up almost immediately when I catch sight of something moving between the trees.

I inhale sharply, backing away from the window. Because it is dark closer to the ground and the forest line, the form of the creature is close to being indistinguishable from its surroundings. All I can tell is that it is huge, and it is not too far away from where I sleep. However, whatever it is, it halts for a fraction of a second before bolting back to the woods. I only have to blink once, and it is gone.

My heart is pounding. In all my years in this place, the only animals I have seen near this premise or any human habitats are foxes and small rodents. This is the first time something larger than that has come out of the forest and it is startling. I do not know what to think or do – it all happened so quickly.

Nonetheless, I still manage to back away further from the window before opening my door and heading to the kitchen.

_A bear? _

It is when I am near the stove that the front door opens. Still startled from what I saw, I jump, heart leaping almost out of my clogged throat.

"Dad," I say, voice rough from sleep.

He halts with taking off his coat and looks at me under the brim of his cap. It is a new headpiece and I am momentarily surprised by it. He usually wears a beanie or something else he can use to hide his hair or at least most part of his head. The mere cap hides less – light hair is tickling his chin. The color is faded yellow, almost gold and it appears to be freshly washed, almost like he put too much conditioner on it and ended up with a satisfactory result.

We both appear to stop in our tracks from making eye contact. I really think I ended up inheriting my dad's eyes – ours are equally dark brown, almost ink black.

"You're up early," he states and is about to walk towards his room, as usual.

I end up standing in front of him, in the middle of his path. He stops immediately, not showing if he is surprised or not by my sudden boldness. "I saw something in the forest… Where were you just now?"

"At the garage," he answers easily like it is not even too early for that. However, I know from experience that he is an early riser.

There is small relief blooming in my chest from hearing that. It means he was out of sight from whatever lurks around outside our yard. "Why were you – never mind. Listen, I think… I think I saw a bear through my window."

He does not react to that as much as I hoped he would, but I also half-expected such a mute response. For one, there have not really been bear sightings like this for years. Second of all, this man before me has the worry level of rock. I used to think that a hurricane could start tearing mountains down and he would not so much as flinch. It is both concerning and admirable trait – I am not sure which one I would pick.

"Do you – do you know if there have been any bear attacks around here?" I ask, feeling stupid after the words are out of my mouth. I do not know anything else about bears, other than that they are huge and can cause damage.

After a short pause, the blonde man shifts his weight. "No, there hasn't been any."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

_Goddamn, this man. _I purse my lips, slightly irritated by how calm he is compared to how I am feeling. I end up inhaling in exasperation. "Can you just be careful from now on? I'm afraid the bear will come back – don't you think it is strange for one to come this close? Shouldn't they still be, oh I don't know, sleeping? It's only January!"

Instead of answering immediately, he merely fixes his eyes to the side, as if thinking something. I follow his gaze and it leads me to look out of the kitchen's window. Much like in my room, you can just barely distinguish the individual trees and I fear for a moment that what I saw might appear again.

My guardian's next words make me almost choke on air. "As long as it doesn't disturb us, we won't disturb it."

In a second, my attention snaps back to him. "Are… are you serious? So, you believe that it could be a bear, but won't do – What if it comes back and we can't go anywhere?"

He does not even blink, only tilts his head. "What do you want me to do about it?"

My face flushes a bit and I open my mouth, but pretty much nothing comes out. I have never been in this kind of situation before. Dad does not interrupt my thoughts, merely stays where he is like a statue as if that makes me feel any better. His stare is uncomfortable, I really do feel like a helpless child under it.

We live in a spot where thick trees are surrounding the premise. If a wild animal – be it a bear, or maybe even a cougar – decides to attack for some unknown reason, I would not be able to outrun it and none of our neighbors would see it. I have grown in this place for years. True, no attacks have happened so far. But for some reason, seeing a protentional predator so close to what is supposed to be my sanctuary is just… my gut turns around from just thinking about it.

Maybe I am this scared because of the dream I saw? I can only recall the blood that soaked me in it, even if the rest of the details are starting to slowly leave from memory. I can still recall how my own face was on that hospital table like a corpse.

_Maybe it was a wolf? _The thought diminishes immediately, despite how the thought of different animal brings comfort. What I saw was too big to be any other mammal that comes to mind.

In the end, I can only look back up meekly. "I am scared that it might… be aggressive. Bears aren't supposed to be awake yet."

"It won't cause us harm," dad says in a tone that one could almost call the firm, were it not for the still monotonous drawl in it. There is also something in his gaze this time – it shifts.

I huff and have to look away restlessly. "You don't sound so convincing. I could go out once and..." I trail off and bite down my tongue. This one sentence has causes my mind to pause, to actually think. This argument will not be getting anywhere. "Forget it. I'm not going to school today anyway. I will stay at home for a while… you know, since I apparently looked half-dead a day before. I should probably take it easy, right?"

He does not say anything, not that I expect him to. There is just a tiny glitter of hope that he might call for me, as I walk towards my room. That does not happen, though. Much like how I do not question his life, he does not question mine. We are content, so to speak, to let the other one have space.

I am not sad.

I am filled with pure exhaustion from waking up early and the man's attitude.

I am so out of it that I cannot even get a dramatic exit. The door is about to slam shut, but I halt and send the blonde man a look. "Inform the school that I will be absent for the rest of the week… Say that I am recovering or something."

* * *

"Excuse me, miss, your change?" The clerk behind the desk calls out and I look at her in surprise.

I look at her with a stupid blank expression on my face, before glancing down and actually seeing her holding money. I blanch and immediately reach out. "Y-yes, thank you."

"Have a nice day," the lady says with a friendly smile, not seemingly bothered by my strange behavior.

I purse my lips and then look down at the flier in my hands. I clear my throat and place it on the table. "Um, I saw this outside and could I perhaps apply for the job?"

The lady squints her eyes down at the small text and pulls out thin-framed glasses that seem like they could fall apart at any moment. She blinks and then gasps. "Oh, dear. I'm so sorry, but this was supposed to be taken down days ago – we aren't employing anyone anymore. Truly, I am terribly sorry for this mishap."

My shoulders fall, but I manage to give her a smile. "No, it's alright. Have a nice evening."

"You too, dear."

As soon as the outside air hits me in the face, I crumble the flier in my fist and throw it into a nearby garbage can. Unfortunately, my aim sucks and has always been pretty poor, so the lump of the paper hits the side and falls to the asphalt instead. I stare at it, totally unimpressed and contemplating just tearing it into tiny snowflakes. _There goes another job offer. _

In my opinion, Forks should be renewed for its limited job opportunities for struggling teenagers. While thinking this, I pick up the paper and let it fall properly to the garbage can – at least I am doing something right in my life with this.

I adjust the shopping bag on my arm, the weight of it cutting off the circulation from the elbow down. This is not exactly what someone taking a sick leave should do. It is reckless, stupid and if someone from school for some reason is loitering around at this hour in the middle of the day, then they would question my physical health.

That is what puzzles me the most – how my body does not feel any different from how it usually is. There is no heaviness in the limbs, shortness of breath, nausea nor haziness in my eyes. I feel great, nothing to worry about. But it is because of this that it almost seems like the nightmare from this week never happened. Instead of really being in the hospital, I have started perceiving it as a delusion, a dream, or a nightmare that I just saw and never happened. However, the bruises from needles on my arm tell a different story.

Another scary part of what has happened to me so far is how I recall things. I can barely anymore remember the details, or maybe I never remembered them in the first place. I recall how everything was spinning, how ill I felt during classes, and then seeing the car speed up towards Isabella Swan. Then, the events in the ambulance are a bundle of voices and lights. Following that the memories from being in a half-delirious state are simply puzzling – how could I think I was buried in snow? _Being on drugs sure is scary. _

Luckily, they did not cut into me. I would not want to walk around with stitches.

_How can I be back on my feet so quickly? _

I purse my dry lips. Better not dwell on these things, or who knows when life would throw something –

"Watch out!"

A bike crashes to me. I do not even have the time to react or turn around to see it. The owner of the contraption has pressed on the measly breaks that send the back wheel flying up. Their weight crashes on me – both the bike's and the rider's – and we fall down to the pavement with the sound of metal scratching the ground. The groceries slip from my hands and the distinct sound of them hitting the ground rings in my ears.

Pain shoots up and down the front of my body, as I have just fallen flat to my stomach and knees, luckily avoiding my face. The latter offers little relief, though,

I have no idea why I was worried that my body isn't aching from fever anymore. Now that it is from being brutally knocked over by another human weight and a bike, I wish I could take my wish back. It hurts and my eyes squeeze shut, but a teardrop manages to crawl out from underneath the lids anyway.

Puffs of air escape past my lips in an attempt to breathe. Every breath moves my body and it hurts.

"A-argh," the person responsible for our current predicament groans loudly and hisses. "S-sorry, a-are you... alright?"

My temper flares from the question, because _how dare he? _There is no traffic around this time, and I understand why he might have thought it would be okay to drive faster than usual, but it almost feels like he came at me with speed outmatching that of cars.

"N-no," I manage to mutter out and try sitting up. Again, my limbs scream at me to stay still and throb from where they were damaged. "W-watch where… you are g-going."

"I-I know, I'm really sorry," the person continues to apologize, stumbling up.

I roll to my side from the position of practically laying on the ground as if it is my early coffin. The person who collided with me does not represent the image I get from his youthful and clear voice. There is a frown so deep on his face that it could leave permanent markings. These marks come both from the pain he is enduring and the guilt he feels for making me experience the same. His brown eyes are fighting to keep themselves open and not to cringe shut from pain and I can further see how he feels remorseful for our situation from those warm orbs.

He is a teenager, maybe younger or older than me. I can't really tell, especially when the two of us finally manage to stand up and he towers over me like a gawky tree. His black hair is a bit longer than I am used to, reaching a little below his chin and brushing his shoulders. Basically, I can almost imagine a puppy dog, when I look into his eyes.

I am about to scold him – I am now certain we are about the same age – but pause when straightening my leg causes a stinging pain to spread. I look down only to find both of my knees scratched up. The fabric of the jeans has been torn open and drops of blood are gathering up the surface.

I want to cry.

This is exactly what I need at this point in my day. I couldn't fall even lower than this.

The boy follows my stare and his otherwise warm skin color turns into a cold paste. "O-oh."

_Oh, it _is exactly the type of speechless response I should be expecting. Instead of feeling remorse towards this reckless boy, I end up glowering at him.

"The. Hell," I curse, feeling my lips twist uncomfortably at the words. I rarely curse in front of anyone, merely inside my head. He stiffens from it, looking visibly ready to panic. "What's wrong with you? Don't you know how – what the hell?"

I don't know what to do, other than start cursing at him. I know myself enough to know that I _will_ feel guilty and ashamed of this later, but I am so frustrated and angry that this is my pure emotional reaction. For one, I was just rejected from a potential job offer – for a good reason, I can give them that – I walked to this store for an hour to buy some snacks to go with my movie evening and this kid basically comes out of nowhere. He has ended up destroying one of my favorite jeans and now I will definitely have to walk back home – another hour – with my knees split open. I do not have any other comfortable jeans than this pair I am wearing.

This sour mood may also be fueled by the fact of how poorly I got to sleep and the early wakeup. Not to mention I am already hungry and only want to go home just now to relax. I have not felt this immense ire towards anyone, the least a stranger, in ages.

"I-I'm so sorry," he continues apologizing, flustered.

Not even having to energy to deal with this, I crouch down to check my groceries, ignoring the pain the bending of my legs causes. Luckily, I did not purchase anything easily breakable earlier. Seeing this, I calm down a bit and manage to get a hold on some part of my temper.

"Whatever," I sigh and take the first time to actually _look_ if the boy is alright. To my further irritation, he does not appear to have a scratch on him. "Just start riding with a helmet and follow speed limitations, for fuck's sake."

"Do you need any help? I can buy you bandages – I'm truly sorry," he continues talking, even when I am obviously turning to walk away from this situation. "I can carry your groceries."

I pause at his words, a little bit surprised that he would offer such a thing. But considering how he has no idea where I live, it might be expected. So, I turn slightly to look at him. "I live an hour away by foot – you think you can carry these that far?"

The paleness fades, but the rustic color of his skin seems to glow now from how deeply it flushes to a darker shade. "Then… how about I buy you band-aids?"

It is rather obvious how his eyes slide down to look at the damaged jeans. I want to end this conversation by pointing out that even if he does buy me band-aids, my legs still hurt, my arms still hurt from softening the landing, too, and my jeans are ripped and will definitely turn out bloody at the end of this day.

A band-aid will not fix _any_ of that and I am not in the mood to wait for him to buy me a pity bandage.

"Please," he continues and takes a step closer. I see how he winces from the movement but otherwise keeps his shoulders hunched in a guilty manner and eyes downcast on my short self. "I feel really guilty about what I have done."

Now he definitely looks like a puppy – a kicked puppy with little strength left to stand – and I literally can feel how the irritation is snuffed out from me. "How about you give me twenty bucks instead?"

His eyes widen and I immediately feel bad from the question. I should not have asked that – do I have that kind of right? A woman once demanded eight bucks from a guy who made her fall into a puddle, accidentally of course. It seemed like a crazy situation back then because she was literally screaming so hard her face was the same color as the McDonald restaurant's burger commercial's background.

I decide to squeeze money out of him at the end of my moral struggle. I am the one who has been injured, he was the one driving like a maniac down the road thinking that nobody was around to stop him, and this is what he gets. Besides, I am asking the amount of money I roughly spent on these jeans, too. If I really wanted to torture a teenage boy who probably has a measly allowance, then I would be asking eighty bucks similarly to that crazy woman I once saw.

To my bewilderment, though, the boy surprises me once again by reaching into his pockets and pulling out the money. His expression falls even further if that is even possible. "I only have ten bucks."

"That's enough," I say and reach out without missing a beat. He hands the money over without hesitation and for a moment I feel like a bully threatening a classmate out of his lunch money. And as if to mellow down that sense of small guilt, I end up asking: "Are you hurt?"

The brown eyes look at me with crystal clear bewilderment. The tips of my cheeks turn red and I lose eye contact from focusing on reprimanding myself inside my head. This is precisely why I suck at social situations, sometimes I am too slow and manage to blurt out something completely opposite of the mood I am giving.

Instead of continuing staring for too long, the corners of the boy's lips twitch up. He does not give off the impression that this is to mock me, though, but rather how he seems to be relieved that I did not throw another curse word at him.

"Nah. I'm pretty tough," he says and gestures at the bike which literally lays between us like a barrier. "Not the first time I have fallen."

I want to ask if this is not his first time colliding with a person either but control that desire. Before I can say anything else to add to my awkwardness, he reaches out his hand in greeting.

"I'm Seth Clearwater," he introduces himself with a small and friendly smile.

There is something about his smile. So young and free and only filled with good intentions that the tension that has been building up on my frowning face melts. I look at his large hand dumbly. It is the literal opposite of the rest of his lanky body, and I end up grasping it with a firm shake.

"Beatrix Stone," I reply and pull my hand back.

"Nice to meet you," he says and crouches down to pick up his bike. "Again, I am _truly _sorry. I-I'm not," he goes back to being nervous and stutters, color returning to his cheeks. "I'm not usually this careless."

_And out of all days, times, and places, you are now. _

"Seriously, dude, put on a helmet," I comment, but with more lightheartedness to my tone.

He looks up to me, corners of his mouth lifting up for the second time. "Yes, I'll try. I was only in a hurry."

"Then… shouldn't you be going?" I ask slowly, wondering how quickly my mood has changed. If he was in a hurry and still offered to help me to carry my stuff and all, then… the thought makes me feel so guilty that it is like a stab to the gut and the knife just keeps on turning and digging deeper.

He nods with a small laugh and finally manages to get the bike to stand up. Before leaving, though, he apologizes for the hundredth time and rides off. Out of all the days to pick that vehicle for a ride, he chose the worst one. The way the bike's tires slide over the ice on the walkway sheds light on how the accident like ours could have happened.

I frown again, the previous emotions of irritation rising now that the youngster's smile is not in my view. Not only that, but something else tingles my nerves when I start walking again. It is the sense that I am missing something…

* * *

The reason for the uncomfortable feeling becomes clear when I get home and start placing the groceries away. Besides basic food necessities, there was another reason why I left the house…

_Alex's birthday present!_

"Dad!" I call out for him, when I run out of my room, pulling on a hoodie. I end up running in front of his door and knocking on the wood. "Dad? Are you in there?"

No answer, and the next thing I know I am running out of the front door and opening the garage door. It slides up, revealing the messy space filled with boxes and trinkets that have never been used to fix a car. Much like with anything else in life, my dad has never been too keen on cleaning the mess. That is not what bothers me, though. The vehicle is also nowhere in sight, along with the man I am looking for.

This puzzles me for only a while, because of how I did not hear the engine starting. The old car is functional, but I could recognize the noise it makes from many other cars on the road. But given how I was focusing on talking to Alex, I can only guess he must have taken off a little while ago while I was preoccupied.

"That little," I start grumbling, hands tightening into small fists. The tire markings on the dirt road beginning from the mouth of the garage are just mocking me.

_Why am I even trying? _

A heavy sigh makes my shoulders drop. My dad could be anywhere right now – to work or some other business he has to take care of. The problem is that I do not know how long he is going to be gone. One day he has driven off somewhere and he can appear the next day, a week or even be only an hour later.

The idea of calling him via phone does not cross my mind. I close the garage and start heading back inside. _Who needs him anyway?_ I can walk to the store and buy the present the entire store where I am thinking of buying Alex's present is around an hour away if I go by foot, again… And judging by those clouds in the distance I could be in for another shower. The air is slightly colder, too, so the chance of it snowing is higher than usual.

I blow a strand of hair off from my forehead tiredly, glancing towards the forest. The sun is shrouded by thick clouds, but that does not stop the natural light. The trees do not appear as ominous as they were at early morning hours.

_Dad may have been right, _I think, recognizing that I might have panicked a bit too –

A strange sound startles me from the distance. I visibly flinch and turn with hand on the door handle to look at the road leading to the empty yard.

It is the sound of an engine, but not the one belonging to a familiar grey Toyota. Comparing this sound with the noise I am used to is like comparing a cat purring and a goose croaking. That does not disturb me immediately, but when I see the front of an unfamiliar car turning around a corner and driving towards my house, cold sweat drips down my spine.

Nobody that I know – and that is a very microscopic amount of people – owns a car like what I am seeing. It is shiny, bright, and not something my elderly neighbors would own.

Understandably, at first, I think whoever drives this car is lost and will turn back at some point. However, when that does not happen, I become more worried. This is like a sketchy scene from a movie where a stranger arrives at your house in the middle of the day.

The car makes a turn, so its incredibly dark side windows are facing the house. And the window at the front slides down.

"Trixie!"

Lightning bolts travel up and down my entire nervous system at the sight of a smiling mouth filled with straight rows of perfect white teeth. Alice waves at me and opens her side of the door before climbing up. Either my petrified and flabbergasted face does not show as much – I have gone numb so I can't feel what kind of expression I am making – or she doesn't care. All I can think of how nice it would be if only the house could collapse and bury me beneath it right this moment.

I have not seen this pixie-like girl in over a week, maybe more. She has been out of school with no other explanations that she has not been feeling well. Yet, as she strolls confidently towards me with a spring in her steps, Alice Cullen is the very picture of health. I take note of her heels and how gracefully she can walk in them even in this kind of terrain and the small pink bag she has in her hands swings softly with her rhythm.

Compared to her, I look ready to keel over.

She further shows how whatever illness has been over her for the past few days has been completely lifted by wrapping her arms around me. It is a gentle hug, soft. I can smell the light scented perfume on her and feel individual strands of her short spiky hair just poking the side of my face.

Despite the way how she hugs me like a piece of glass, the wind is knocked out of my lungs. I am stiff and my arms hover between staying where they are and hugging her back.

_The. Heck? _

"I'm so happy to see you!" She says immediately after stepping away, bright golden-brown eyes meeting mine. "After hearing that you – what happened at school, I was so worried. How are you?"

The words take a while to come out of my throat. I can't believe she is actually standing here. "I-I'm fine… What about you? I was told that you were sick?"

"I'm fine. Just a little season flu, that's all," she says off-handedly and looks at me up and down. "Is it alright for you to be out here in the cold, though?"

She probably doesn't mean to embarrass me, I really think so. But she manages to both sound concerned and make my face flush.

I'm not wearing the most… fashionable clothes, compared to her. My face and hair are also a far cry from her smooth features, and I resist an urge to start untangling the knot of hair at the back of my head. I have a simple pair of old baggy grey pants that have a ketchup stain on the right thigh. It is quite visible. To add a finishing touch, I am currently wearing flipflops that show off my toes to the world. And lastly, a bright red hoodie with the word 'Hot-Dog' written at the front in big white font size.

I want to be attached to the IV fluids again, for some reason. There are about over five different whiteheads on my face right now and I curse myself for not taking care of my face properly for once in my life. _I'm just a teenager – _it is genetically impossible for me to look good with oily and dry skin like mine.

"It's fine," I say, laughing a bit awkwardly. "I was heading inside anyway, but… no offense, but why are you here?"

She luckily is not offended by the question and smiles again, holding out the pink bag that I now see has a small pink bow in the middle. "A present. My father told me you were admitted from the hospital, but you weren't in school, so I decided to come and give it to you."

_Thanks, Dr. Cullen,_ I think sarcastically in my mind, not sure if he is even allowed to release that kind of information. However, mostly I feel overwhelmed by Alice's warm gesture. I look at the present for a while, before stiffly taking it from her.

I do not look at what is inside but look down at it a second longer before giving the girl before me a smile. It is not a stiff expression, at least I do not think so. Receiving a gift after going through what must be one of the most dramatic experiences of my life softens me up a bit.

"Thank you," I say, genuinely grateful for what she has done. But then my smile drops. "What about you? Shouldn't – you said school, right? Shouldn't you be there right now?"

She chuckles. "I'm taking a sick leave, too."

Just as she says that there is a distinct sound of the car door closing. My mouth grows dry because I know for a fact that if she is here there is another person with her. Over her shoulder, wave blonde hair peeks over the top of the car, as the person there rises to his full height. In a few seconds, Jasper steps forward.

I try remaining blissfully oblivious to his approach and focus on Alice.

"Jasper is the one who didn't want me to drive here alone," she says and steers the conversation to the moving object that is literally my walking enigma. "You know since I was sick just recently and so forth."

It feels like he is next to his adopted sister within seconds and my eyes keep on wandering around his face. I look at _anything _but his eyes.

"Good day Stone."

"… Hi, Hale."

The sheer amount of sweat sliding down my skin underneath the pants and the hoodie is enough to create a waterfall. It is the moment that I meet his eyes that all the memories of our previous encounters come crashing down on me – I blush from mortification. I have dropped paint on this boy, I have been rude and tossed a movie container at him, rejected his offer to drive me home in the rain, and finally thrown up in front of him. The latter is something I can freshly recall because it happened only a day before yesterday.

The worst of all is that this is a situation I can't get out of smoothly. This is the type of scenario, where you are stuck with individuals who do not know or have heard every predating awkward event that has occurred between two people. This is why, Jasper's perfectly calm expression is exacerbating, and Alice's smiling and obvious one crushes me on the inside.

_Should I just say: 'Good day, thanks for stopping by, and bye?' Should I tell them that it is cold, and I need to get inside? No, they might follow me. Should I pretend dad is home? No! Alice could want to meet him. Do I pretend to be feeling sick? Should I start coughing? How do I pretend to be ill again? _My heartbeat is growing too fast. The wild ideas are just coming into my head. They gather like air into a balloon and stretch and stretch it until –

As suddenly as tension rises to my shoulders, it just as suddenly stops. I feel like I can breathe again.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks, not unkindly and not intentionally trying to make fun of me by starting the conversation with how our last one went down.

I nod. "Yes, thanks."

The short exchange does not bring me enough comfort to be a hundred percent relaxed with these two siblings in front of me while looking like a hermit, but I do feel how my heartbeat is calming down. The calmer I become, the more puzzled I am, though.

There is no reason for me to be calm, so just why…

"Trixie, would you like to go shopping with me next week? We both should be feeling better by then," Alice's sudden question jolts me back.

I blink down at her. Even with heels, she does not even reach the underline of my forehead. Her eyes are large, though, and they look at me with a hopeful sparkle in them.

"Um, shopping?" I ask dumbly, heat beginning to creep back up my face from how unsure my voice sounds like.

When she nods, I bite my lower lip and fiddle with the handle of the gift bag. I can't help but look at the smaller girl up and down, from her shining black heels to the fancy white coat that hugs her petite figure. These are definitely not the kind of clothes you would find in Forks' clothing stores. With a bit of good luck, a flea market could have an old vintage jacket.

"Like… in town or…?"

"Port Angeles," she answers as soon as I start trailing off.

The name rings a bell, and not in a way where I realize the geographical location of a place that I have not heard about very often. It rings a bell because she has asked me to go there once before. It was in the public library around two weeks ago, where she had appeared out of nowhere and offered me a book. The very same book that is currently laying on my room's floor.

I am certain that the last time we had this conversation, I told her that that place is too far away. I can't drive, I don't have a driver's license nor am I too keen on the idea to jump on a stranger's car. Alice has been nice and all, but…

"Alice," I begin with a steady voice and lock my eyes with her firmly. "It's too far away."

I do not say: '_I've told you before_.' For one, Jasper is here, and I do not want to bring up that this subject has been discussed before. And I do not want to make it apparent for Alice, because that would sound like I am accusing her of forgetting. These are all scenarios that come to mind when I think of it. I have always mostly been a pushover when it comes to people being nice to me, but this is where a line must be drawn.

At my words, the smaller girl's expression falters a bit. "Oh, right… But would it help if I drove us there?"

_Excuse me? Exactly how long have we known each other, _is what I would like to say, but I bite the words down. Not even her once again hopeful expression makes my resolve waver and I shake my head. "Um, no. Look, I really don't… "

_I do not want to go shopping – I hate shopping. I do not want to go to Port Angeles – it is too far away. I do not want you to drive me there – I do not trust you enough to let you be behind the wheel. You have given me the gift already – can you please exit the private area? _

"Please?" She begs and reaches out to take my hand.

For some reason, I glance at Jasper the second she makes physical contact. Until this moment, I have done my utmost best to ignore his existence. When he spoke to me a moment ago, he had appeared to be relaxed, much like his female counterpart. However, I can see a small difference now. His face remains a perfect mask, but his eyes are obviously fixed on Alice's and my linked hands.

I want him to say something to make her let go of me. Her hand is covered in leather gloves, preventing the skin to skin contact. That, nonetheless, does not make me experience less discomfort. I may like hugs and touches between friends, but… somehow, I am not yet comfortable with Alice. She has practically invaded my personal space these past weeks from day one.

It takes everything within me to not tear my limb back, but like earlier, the stress and anxiety vaporize into thin air. I actually take my time looking into Alice's eyes. They almost seem to glow in this light and her white skin momentarily glows – she has got the looks of an innocent angel. Someone who means no harm.

Whatever power possesses me, it takes over my tongue. "I guess… I could take that offer."

The brunette's hand tightens around mine. She's positively _beaming. _"Great! How about we discuss this next week since we can't be too sure of your health?"

Again, I start seeing no harm in her words and relax even further. "Sure."

"See you next week, then!" She says and gives my hand one last firm and happy shake before letting go. Her arms wrap around Jasper's next and the two make their way towards the car. "Take care of yourself!"

"Thanks! You too!" I call out and watch both of them climb to the car.

Alice gives me one last wave from the window before the vehicle drives off.

I am left standing where I am like an idiot. An idiot who feels like someone has dumped a bucket of cold water on her the second the fancy car is out of sight. The birds' chirp, a chilly wind blows, but I continue standing where I am, staring at the spot the two people were at a moment ago.

Slowly, almost like a robot, I look down at the bag I was given. It has become an alien that I want to drop to the sidewalk and let it stay there.

_What the hell just happened?_

Inside the bag, I find a box full of chocolate and a flowery card wishing me to get better soon. It has been written in neat and curvy handwriting – it makes me jealous of the writer's penmanship.

* * *

_I'm an idiot. _

There is no logical explanation for what happened. Either my brain chemistry went wonky and started unwiring or I was still suffering from the hospital's drugs. I should have hit my head against the bricks to clear them out…

_Why did I agree!? _

I wish there were a medical procedure to prove idiocy. I may as well have hit my head when I collapsed this week, but there are just no visible signs to show it. This might explain what came over me when instead of continuing to reject Alice's request for a shopping date, I ended up agreeing. Buying clothes is not what I am most worried about, though.

How am I going to survive an hour ride with her? There this one rule that people back in Tennessee kept on preaching to me – do _not _accept rides from other people, besides your parents or siblings. I do not have the latter, but I doubt that getting dad to chaperone this trip would make things less awkward. Not to mention he has not even returned.

In a way, I am glad to have the house to myself for once. Nobody is here to see me panicking and acting silly, as I scrub my face raw. It took one look at the mirror to see what the two adopted siblings had seen – my face is completely covered in pimples.

I finally manage to sit down on the couch, body turning heavy and shoulders dropping down. "Why me?"

My laptop turns on not a few seconds before my phone starts ringing. Not expecting that, I jump and quickly fumble the device open.

"_Hello? Trix?" _Alex's voice comes out, not waiting for me to speak up.

I freeze, mind going back to how I failed to buy him a present today. "A-ah, Alex. What's up?"

"_Are you alright?" _He questions immediately.

I clear my throat, getting more comfortable, and tapping idly on the computer. "Yes, yes. What about you? Is your health improving?"

There is a short silence from the other end. _"Yes. I'm doing fine… although mom's still fussing over me."_

"Aw! Your mom is so nice," I coo and snicker at the exasperated noise he makes. "Now you know how I felt at the hospital."

A huff. _"Thanks for the support. Anyhow, you do not have any strange symptoms?"_

"Nope. I have just decided to take the rest of the week off and relax… Feels strange not to go to school, though," I shrug and scroll down my email, but stiffen for the hundredth time today. "U-um, could I call you later?"

The discomfort in my tone must be obvious. _"Oh, sure?"_

"Great, thanks!" I hang up on him quickly before more words can be exchanged and quickly toss the phone to the side.

All of my attention is now reserved for the text on the screen. I read the message more than a few times, before burying my face into my hands. Every bad or unlucky thing that has ever happened to me seems to come crashing down.

'_Dear Miss Stone_

_Due to your sudden absence, you missed the math pop quiz. As I informed the entire class last week. This quiz will have a significant effect on your grade. However, because of your circumstances, I am willing to push your quiz to next week. Hopefully, you will be feeling better until then. _

_Additionally – '_

Out of instinct, I close the computer and lean back on the couch. It seems like hanging out with Alice won't be the only thing I need to worry about next week.

* * *

The alarm of the clock goes off, jolting me awake and nearly tumbling out of the chair. I look up, neck muscles aching and tingling from the awkward position I have been in. It takes only two seconds for the pieces to click together and for me to close the alarm. Everything becomes once again silent in my room and I am staring down at the math problem resting on top of the desk…

Seeing that I have not even managed to figure out how to solve the math problem, I groan and let my forehead comically meet with the wood.

It is already dark, but I recall faintly how the room was filled with the golden light of the sunset the last time I was awake. The only thing that makes it even possible for me to see is the small lamp that nearly hits me in the face from sitting up so straight suddenly.

_I give up. Who needs math anyway? I'm not going to become a math scholar or professor, so why do I need to know this stuff? They should be teaching me how to pay rent instead. I don't deserve this!_

Deciding that math will not be worth a headache and loss of sleep, I close the book and slowly slump my way to the window. However, I end up stopping in front of it much like this morning, eyes freezing to the tree lines further away from the house. My heartbeat rises rapidly, it ignores the safe speed for blood circulation altogether.

Whatever animal I saw at the crack of dawn, it is now outside my window for the second time.

Cold. That is a word that fits everything going through my body. I feel cold, I am frozen like a rabbit.

_It's fine. _

There is almost nothing that a human eye can distinguish from the nightly forest. However, there is no way that those floating orbs are part of nature. They remind me for a moment of a cat and how one had scared me half to death when I was little. When an animal like that walks by in the dark and you have no idea what it is, being scared is natural.

Those two glowing points might as well be my imagination. I'm tired and frustrated, so those might as well be a good reason for being over the edge. But…

The dark is like a blanket, one that never lets you out. I hate it and am thankful for this one table lamp as I close the curtains.

_Dad said it's fine._

By the time I manage to close even the small lamp so that the entire room turns pitch black, there is already sweat sliding down my back. I am shaking, the sound of my breathing is too loud for my ears.

_The bear won't attack. _

I crawl under the covers, wrapping them tightly around myself. My heart is pounding.

_Just sleep and it will go away. _

Unfortunately, I have lately learned that not even my dreams can grand me peace.


End file.
